Long Road
by ReadWriteLove715
Summary: 13 year old Kierstyn Wells has managed to survive the dead world of walkers with her trustworthy friends, Duane and Morgan Jones. But as time progresses on, Morgan's mental condition slowly deteriorates and Kierstyn can't help but wonder what there is left to live for. That is until she meets Rick's group. Possible Carl/OC
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey, I'm here with a new story! This story is about an OC, 13 year old Keirstyn Wells, surviving the Zombie Apocalypse with well known characters Morgan and Duane Jones. This first chapter is long and set around season 2 of TWD. The upcoming chapters is when Rick meets Morgan in "Clear", Season 3. Might be a Carl/OC since there aren't much of those. Enough of my blabbering and enjoy! **

**_Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own the Walking Dead. _**

* * *

_Long Road_

_Chapter 1_

When I thought of death, I've thought of something...typical. Like a heart attack, a car crash or just dying peacefully in your sleep. I didn't think death would include _them_ ripping your guts out as your last seconds of life would end in excruciating pain.

This type of stuff was supposed to happen in books. Movies, television shows, not in real life. No one saw it coming. No one expected it. No one was prepared.

Yet we had to fight back like we never had done before.

* * *

_"MOM!" I yelled, trying to find her in the crowd of walkers. It was hard to spot her as I was trying to kill some of them myself. One grabbed my arm though I stabbed it in his lifeless eye with my free hand. The growls were getting closer and closer._

_The building we were staying in was going to fall. Dad thought that the fence would protect us from the herd and they wouldn't knock it down. But it didn't take long to realize he was wrong as the walkers looked ravenously at us and were now a few inches away from us._

_As I killed another walker, I glanced to my left to see my mother. She locked her amber eyes with mine and for a moment time seemed to slow down. She was my only family member left; dad was bitten and so was my little brother. And I wasn't going to lose anymore people._

_Kicking some walkers who were by me, I ran to my mother, hoping that she was all right. But it was too late. I heard her shrill scream as I saw the walkers eating any part of visible flesh they could get._

_I hunched over and gagged, sobs escaping from my throat. How many people can you lose in only a matter of minutes? Suddenly, I fell down and felt rotten hands grasping my hair. I struggled although the walker wasn't as heavy as I thought. Turning around, my nose scrunched up in disgust over the smell, as my eyes widened in fear at seeing who the walking corpse was._

_He still had the same face although there was a neck wound, clearly showing where he was bitten. His once brilliant blue eyes were now a milky yellow as they looked at me viciously. My brother._

_I gasped in horror to see what my brother has become. No. It can't be, I repeated over and over again in my mind. This isn't Kyle. I didn't reach my knife or my handgun which was kept safely in my pocket. I simply froze and stared into my brother's eyes. Paralyzed._

_He sunk his teeth into my face._

* * *

I woke up, gasping heavily for breath. A sheet of cold sweat was forming on my forehead, and I was freezing although it was considerably warm in the room.

"Are you okay? Kierstyn?" Duane asked, his voice thick with concern. Although the room was too dark to see his face, I know his eyes would be filled with worry also.

"I-I'm fine," I stammered.

"Nightmare again?" he asked, although it was more of a statement than a question.

I sighed and numbly nodded. "Yeah, I didn't wake you guys did I?" I squinted through the darkness to see Duane's dad, Morgan, snoring peacefully in his cot. Looking back at Duane, I can see the figure of his head shake.

"No, I had a nightmare myself. You were in it." he said, staring at the wall, which had drawings of the map of King County.

I wiped the sweat off my forehead and kept quiet. I didn't need to ask what happened in the end; I was probably dead in his 'dream'.

"I just wish this would go away," he remarked wistfully. "Wish I could see my mom again..."

"Well she isn't comin' back. She's dead, just like how we're going to be." I spat at him. Duane flinched and looked at me, his black eyes hurt. I met his eyes and kept my gaze until I felt a twinge of guilt. Shaking my head, I laid down at the floor and took a deep breath.

"Sorry. It's just that—"

"It's okay," he replied, though it was clear that it was not. "Can't wish for things that are never possible."

I took his hand and gave it a tight squeeze. Comforting people was never my thing. I tried for words though my throat seemed stuck. Swallowing hard, I said, "We'll...we'll get through it Duane. You and your dad are very special to me. When I was vulnerable, you guys took me in and treated me like I was part of your family. That's what you guys are: my family. And when we get out of this dark, deep hole, there will be light and happiness. I promise that."

Duane raised an eyebrow, but a small grin was creeping onto his face. "How do I know that you won't break that promise?" he mused.

I smiled myself and my grip on Duane's hand tightened. "Don't worry. I never would've made a promise in the first place if it were to be broken."

...

Day began to break out as sunlight beamed through the windows. After eating a bag of chips for breakfast we decided to head out, hoping to scavenge any more items.

Morgan inspected his traps and spikes to find it clean. No walkers, a miracle I was very grateful for. It was a pain to haul them and burn the bodies. I remember Duane and I had the task of carrying a rather plump corpse, which was far from easy.

"Let's go to the cellar, see if there's anything else," Morgan decided. I don't know what would happen if we didn't have him as our leader. Duane and I were only thirteen year old kids who were lucky enough (yet at the same time cursed) to live in a deteriorated world like this. I'd be dead if it weren't for them. Although I've said it a thousand times, it was the truth.

My thoughts were interrupted by Duane nudging me. "Bet you a bag of chips that I'll kill more walkers than you."

I raised my eyebrows and a smirk was plastered on my face. We never did deal on the bet, but it was fun pretending to. "You only have expertise with a handgun. I know how to shoot and use a knife. So that makes me the winner."

He shook his head dramatically. "Girl, in your dreams."

I burst into a fit of giggles as my friend roared with laughter. It would be like this everyday, laughing at random things until in five seconds...four seconds...three...two...one...

"Would you two please stop laughing?" Morgan asked, but he smiled. He began laughing also.

After we managed to stop, we continued walking, passing through the spikes and cages of animals such as rats and squirrels. When we finally reached our destination, Morgan rubbed his beard and cocked his shotgun. "Duane and Kierstyn, stay here as I go to the cellar. Do not follow me." he ordered.

Duane and I nodded as the dark-skinned man went down to the stairs to the cellar. Everything seemed quiet, but I held my gun just in case. Duane did the same although he was at ease and his shoulders were relaxed, unlike me. I picked off some dried blood from my gray t-shirt and tattered shorts.

"Gosh, I can't wait to take a shower. I must smell so bad." I muttered.

Duane had a crooked smile on his face. "I think you smell nice. I'm the one who needs a shower!"

"No, you smell like flowers and butterflies," I teased. Although this conversation was quite pointless, it was the only way to pass time. For the next ten minutes, we joked around and tried having fun, hoping that Morgan would be back and the tension would go away.

As the minutes rolled by, we eventually got bored and sat on the sidewalk, a few feet away from the cellar. I kicked the debris and gravel with my battered converse as the heat seemed to increase.

"What'd I do for a cold drink..." muttered Duane, licking his cracked lips and I nodded. It seemed that when the world formed into a living hell, the weather got worse. I remembered the freezing winter I spent a few months ago and knew I would be experiencing a scorching summer. I twiddled with my long auburn hair and decided to make a braid, a fishtail one to be exact.

Before I could even begin the braid, I heard the all too familiar sound of snarls and dragging of feet. I looked up to see five walkers get through our system of traps and were heading right through us. All of the were male with tattered clothes and cloudy sunken eyes. Except one who was a dark-skinned female with a bloody white nightgown, missing an arm. I heard Duane gasp as he let out a cry that sounded like a dying animal.

More and more walkers kept on coming and I realized that there was a huge hole between the wires. _How in the world?_

A gunshot echoed in my ears and I exhaled instantly, not even realizing I was holding my breath. Looking back, I saw Duane, his fingers trembling as they were placed around the trigger. Getting back into reality, I shot several but it hardly made a dent. They were at least ten to fifteen of them and it was shocking that so many were coming to us.

_It's happening all over again,_ my mind said.

I passed by Duane and looked straight at his black eyes, which were filled with fear. Mine were probably the same but I tried to remain calm. What would Morgan do? An idea suddenly popped into my head and I was stupid that I didn't think of it earlier.

"I'll get your dad and we can kill them together. Just try your best for now until I get back."

"But Keir, I can't do it. My m—" I ran off before he can finish. I needed to get to Morgan.

Running to the cellar, I tried opening the rusty doors only to find it jammed shut. After kicking it several times, it budged open and I yelled for Morgan.

"What's wrong?" Morgan asked with bottles of water in his arms, completely oblivious to the chaos and mayhem outside.

"Walkers...a lot...Duane.." I replied breathlessly. Dropping all of the items, he cursed under his breath and grabbed his shotgun. We flew up the stairs and saw Duane trying to fight off the walkers. He managed to shoot five or six, but they were still coming.

"Duane!" Shouted the father, "DUANE!" Duane didn't even turn his head to see us. The boy seemed to be trembling as the female walker I saw earlier got closer to him.

"SHOOT it!" I shrieked at Duane. Why wasn't he doing anything?

Morgan suddenly fell to his knees and buried his face in his big meaty hands, sobbing as he shoulders began shaking. "No, no. Jenny, no."

I looked at him in puzzlement. The walker got closer, the biting range, and that's when I knew I had to shoot it. I ran to Duane and aimed my gun at the dead woman's head.

I shot it and the bullet penetrated through her skull. But it was too late as I saw Duane drop his gun as he fell to the floor along with the walker. He writhed in pain and screamed endlessly. Tears welled up in my eyes to piece the puzzle together and notice what had happened in a only a few minutes.

Duane was bit.

* * *

**A/N 2: Like it? :3 I need reviews if you want me to continue the story. So please review, it only takes one or two minutes! Thanks for reading! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello! I am so happy thanks to all of the alerts, favorites, and reviews from you guys! I never thought the first chapter or the story would get any attention! It really made my giddy and I had more than 100 views in one day! :O **

**I wish I could've updated the new chapter earlier, but the site wouldn't let me. :/ but here's a lengthy chapter for you! The beginning is a bit boring and you may skip it if you like (I just wanted to build my OC Keirstyn more). I love all of my readers, I hope you enjoy this chapter! :)**

* * *

_Chapter 2_

_Long Road_

_I trudged along the cracked sidewalks of the streets, exhausted from running. Looking at the wall to the left of me, I saw red graffiti on the wall that said, "**LEAVE IF YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR YOU."**_

_To be honest, I didn't give a damn. Unless I saw a ton of biters, I wouldn't be leaving. This seemed like a deserted town and probably had some ammo, food or water. It's been two or three weeks (if I'm counting right) since my family has...passed. I wanted to cry, I tried so hard but the tears wouldn't come down. Maybe it was because my only goal and focus was to find some shelter; I've been sleeping in abandoned cars on the highway, sleeping on trees or I had no sleep at all. Or maybe I've grown from cheery and bubbly to cold and heartless..._

_I licked my cracked, chapped lips; thirsty from dehydration. My stomach growled in hunger. I ran my fingers through my tangled greasy hair, feeling a cool breeze coming in. My eyes were close to shutting in, my tiredness now taking a toll on me. Then suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I see a squirrel strolling its way calmly as if the world hadn't fallen into pieces._

_My eyes widened as I immediately thought what this squirrel was. Food. Rubbing my hands eagerly, I got my buck knife (a weapon I found in an abandoned old truck) out of my backpack and took a deep breath. I tiptoed a few steps, the squirrel not noticing me yet. Then I charged and try to stab the small animal, only to fail and end up with a bloody and cut hand._

_I fell to my knees and for a long time, I began to sob. Is this the monster I've become? I thought to myself. Is there no humanity left in this small ruined world?_

_I continued to crawl my way to the town, only to be greeted by a unwelcoming sight. Traps, spikes, wires, caged animals were everywhere. More of that annoying graffiti was written on walls, on pavements, anyplace with a hard surface. Strangely enough, I began to laugh, a high mad shriek escaping from my parted lips. What was wrong with me?_

_A gunshot echoed through my ears and I started, frightened. I lifted my own gun up and aimed it high in the air, which was a humorless joke since I had no ammo left. Looking back from my shoulder, I saw a biter a few feet away lying in the floor, dead. Why had this person, whoever it was, spared my life?_

_I look around frantically, trying to spot the shooter. Apparently, the gunshot hadn't disrupted any nearby biters since there weren't any in sight. Wincing in pain from exhaustion, I slowly get up and maneuver my way through the traps. In a few minutes, I'm greeted with a gun pointed at my head._

_"Who are you? You bit by a walker?" asked a man with fully body armor on him, his face covered by a black helmet. Did he say walker? Maybe that was the word they used for the dead, as I used the name biter. Walker sounded catchier._

_Anyway, right next to him was a boy (guessing from his body build) who had the same gear on him. He had a pistol pointed at my head also. Oh goody, aren't these such friendly people._

_I rolled my eyes at them. Instead of getting my knife from my backpack, I just stood there. After everything that had happened, I was ready to accept death; to give up. These people just had to finish the job. "Is this how a person is greeted now?" I croaked, since I haven't used my voice in a long time, "With a gun aimed at their heads? Shoot me away, Agent Bond, and splatter my brains out!"_

_The tall boy seemed to snicker, but the man next to him didn't look to be happy (well, I couldn't exactly tell from the helmet guarding his head). "Are you bit?" he repeated, his voice with a grave tone._

_I sighed and dropped my gun, hoping they'll lower their weapons too. They don't. "No, I'm not bit. Just...tired." They checked every part of my body, which made me very uncomfortable as I squirmed and told them to back off. They ignored me and continued to check for any bite wounds. They also checked my backpack, only to find it carrying a knife._

_"I'm not gonna harm you. That knife was only to kill biters, or the walkers as you call them." Inside, I was secretly hoping that they would think opposite and kill me. It would be a better death than getting eaten. "I'm just tired."_

_A long moment of utter silence ensued and I wondered if they should've shot me in the head earlier before. Instead, they both looked at each other and nodded. They took off their helmets, and I saw two dark-skinned males. One a young boy about my age, and the other (who was probably the father) with a scruffy beard on his face. To my surprise, the older man smiled at me, something that actually etched out hope._

_"Aren't we all?"_

* * *

I shook my head as I fell to my knees, besides Duane. The growls were getting louder and closer and it only got me more aggravated. They ended up falling to the floor thanks to my gun.

But I was running out of ammo. And time. The herd of walkers never seemed to end and Duane was breathing heavily now, coughing up sickly blood. I needed to get to the cellar if Duane was going to make it. And I needed to transport him _fast_.

I tried picking him up but he was too heavy for me, especially since I'm quite small. "Morgan!" I shouted for the father, praying that he'll help me get Duane to safety. He still seemed distraught, staring into space but at least he had stopped sobbing. I shot two more walkers until I saw that there was no more rounds.

"_Shit_!" I cursed under my breath. "MORGAN! DUANE NEEDS HELP OR HE'll _DIE_!" I yelled as loud as I can. It certainly was true; Duane was losing blood from his wound and was wheezing for air.

At the mention of his son's name, Morgan snapped back into reality and his eyes widened. Not wanting to waste any more time, he shot some nearby walkers and ran over to us.

"Duane?" he asked, uncertainty and fear thick in his voice. His son tried to speak but instead coughed up more blood. I tried to wipe it with the hem of my shirt, resulting in a bloody mess.

"I-is he okay?" I bit my lip at his question and inhaled slowly trying my best not to roll my eyes. The snarls were getting closer.

"Not if you don't help me," I snapped impatiently, "Pick up Duane's feet and we'll take him to the cellar."

He obeyed my order and we lifted the boy, running to our destination. That's all we did now, run. Sadly, this only made Duane scream and my heart ached for him though I remained a stoic expression. If both of the Jones saw me panic, this will only end in a bad way.

Finally making it to the cellar, Morgan gently placed his son in the middle of the room as I shut the metal doors. The cellar was quite small, both sides of the walls storing liquor there. There were some empty shelves but the middle of the cellar wasn't occupying anything.

It was then that I examined Duane's bite on his right arm. Red flesh could be seen and it took the little energy I had to refrain from vomiting. His face was contorted in pain and I touched his forehead, only to find it burning. His once black energetic eyes were now dull and he was sweating buckets.

Morgan sat on the cement floor and stroked his son's cheek. Duane groaned to say the next words. The two words that were directed to _me_. The two little, but important words that hit me like a ton of bricks:

"You promised."

I leaned into him, letting all of my kept tears flow down my face. Not meeting his gaze I said, "We'll, we'll find a way to get out of this. Just hold on Duane. Please," I begged although my hope was slowly deteriorating.

Morgan's bottom lip quivered as he stuttered for words. "Just say you'll hold on."

But he couldn't. Duane took one last shaky breath before he exhaled. His lifeless black eyes remained open as he stared as the plain ceiling. I shut them close for him as I bit back a sob.

"Duane?" I choked, my fingers trailing down his neck to feel for a pulse. I'd be lying to say that I did.

Morgan screamed in anger and kicked the gray walls. He paced back and forth, letting out cries that sounded like a dying animal. I can practically see the smoke come out from his nostrils and ears. His sobs echoed in the small tight cellar and I feared that the walkers would spot our location. I feared that Duane would come back but not as himself; I feared that Morgan would never stop his rant; I feared that we were all going to die.

"Why, why, _WHY_?" seethed the grieving father. He took a bottle of wine from one of the shelves and threw it at the floors, the glass shattering; just like our lives were.

I glanced at metal rusty metal doors to see if the walkers could knock it down. They were rattling but it wasn't anything serious. I then turned my attention to the dead Duane, something that made my eyes water even more. With my knife in my right hand, I grabbed his hand with my left. I thought of the memories - the good and bad - that we had cherished together.

I remembered the time when Duane asked me if I would ever take a bullet for him. I, confused at the bizarre question, replied with a definite yes and I meant it from the bottom of my heart. He was a friend—no a _brother _that I could always lean onto for support. He was someone who truly listened and he was way better than my best friends I had before the world went wild. Duane had truly changed me and my views on this hellish world. He encouraged me to try harder and not to give up on my life even though others had. He and Morgan showed me that the world wasn't black and white but filled with every color. So when I said yes, I really meant it.

_I_ _would take a bullet for him. But not a bite wound._

Hours seemed to tick by and I was beginning to think that Duane wouldn't turn into one of _them_. He didn't deserve it. None of us deserved to meet this fate. I heard a loud growl emit from his chest and I shuddered, closing my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I gripped the knife through my trembling fingers. Then I see him.

His deep midnight eyes were now a cloudy yellow. His eyes were also sunken and the noises he made were..._inhumane. _I'm instantly reminded of my young and once bubbly brother that had met the same fate a few months ago. And just like before, I froze._  
_

I felt his heavy breath on me, his arms stretching out yearning for my flesh. Someone takes something from my hand, the one that had the knife.

I watched the knife plunge into his eyes. I blinked and looked up to see Morgan crushing the blade as it cut his skin, blood oozing out. He looked at me with disgust and I don't see his once friendly expression anymore. "_You_," he spat, "_You_ caused this."

"B-but—"

"Get out of my life," he murmured darkly. Still in the same position, Morgan's eyes widened and he raged. "GET OUT!"

The last thing I see is the bloody knife.

* * *

**A/N: Phew, that was intense (well, that's my opinion anyway :3). Wrote it all on my I-Pad, too! Hope it wasn't too boring especially in the beginning; that's my biggest concern right now. And just to forewarn you that my action writing is quite suckish. My other concern is that Morgan is a bit OOC in this chapter. But he just lost his son so I think any person would go crazy like that. My excuse is that I'm an eight grader and I'm still learning lol! Please review! Any suggestions would be wonderful! Tell me what you think! Thanks! :3**

**And a special thanks to my reviewers: dreaming4diamonds, Rebel29, xxRAINBOWunicornsXX, WardenN7, bigtimerushlover101, and guest! You guys motivate me to write more! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello and how are my readers doing? I'm okay, I guess. I've been having a bad day but I just wanted to update this chapter for you guys!**

**Thank you for the reviews, alerts, favorites, etc (you know who you are!). I'm too lazy to write down the names but you guys deserve virtual cookies. (::) (::)**

**I just want to let you know that I'm not exactly going word for word like some other stories do. I want to combine the comics and TV show ideas and create a new original plot (though that'll be introduced in the later chapters). What do you guys think? Suggestions? Anyway I hope you like this chapter, though it is a bit sad. And this chapter is a timeline skip, somthing I don't prefer though it was necesscary. Plus, we'll catch a glimpse of a certain police officer today. ;) REVIEW PLEASE!**

* * *

_Chapter 3_

_Long Road_

** 3 Months Later...**

Life was...hard. And for once, it wasn't the walkers that stirred trouble. No, it was Duane. As soon as Morgan had to kill him, something clicked off in the father's mind. He stabbed me in the arm, the same exact spot where his son was bit. Even though he held a great grudge against me, he ironically decided to keep me. Morgan said, "It's what Duane would want." Once we got out of the cellar (which was a miracle and a long story) he wouldn't talk to me. I respected that, but I was worried for him and his condition.

He wouldn't eat. Even if I tried to feed him, he would shoo me away with a dangerous glare and scowl. Morgan would take liquor from the cellar and suck it dry, laughing hysterically. But when his supply ran out, all he did was stare into space and at night he would cry himself to sleep. Sometimes he'd murmur strange things, the name Jenny often being spilled from his mouth. I once asked who was Jenny and how she had anything to do with Duane.

"None of your business," he spat, his dark, midnight eyes glinting with hatred."You caused Duane's death."

Morgan always sent me accusing glances every time I tried to comfort him. And soon, I began to blame myself for Duane's death. Not only did I kill someone dear to me, but I also killed my only chance of family. I would always question myself: What if? What if I stayed there with Duane? What if I was quicker? What if I could've stopped the bite from even happening? What if I didn't promise him hope when it was long gone? What if...?

And I knew that I would never be able to replace that big hole, but I would try to do my best.

...

For the next weeks I would be the one clearing the traps and hauling the walkers into the abandoned yard. I also would be the one who scavenged for items. I remember one time I decided to go to another town so I could get more food, something we were running out of. I was gone for two days and when I came back, Morgan didn't even notice I was there; still mumbling about Jenny and his son. And I couldn't help but wonder if maybe I could end all of his suffering. It would take one bullet to the head and maybe he would be in peaceful heaven. He wouldn't have to grieve any more, ponder what could've happened. Morgan would be happy, finally free of all the worries.

But I decided not to; because I couldn't live without him, even if he was getting closer to Crazy Town each day. I couldn't because I was selfish.

It was the decision I regretted the most.

**4 Months Later...**

"Morgan, you have to eat," I demanded, trying to smash some stale bread into his mouth. "You're getting sick. You need the warmth, it's freezing winter. You can't even get out of your cot!"

He only bit his lip. Morgan sent me one of those deadly glares and I sighed. As he opened his mouth to say something - probably his lecture on how it was my fault for Duane's death - I did something that I didn't even think about. It was a hidden reflex, awakened by pure anger and irritation.

I slapped him hard in the face and his eyes narrowed at my hasty action. Suddenly all those words I've kept to myself, the secrets that replayed in my head, spilled out.

"Just STOP! What is fucking wrong with you?! Get yourself together! I'm sorry about Duane; I really am! You think I _wanted_ him to die?!" His face looked like he had taken a punch to the gut, but I didn't stop there. "If he was still here, he would look at you in disgust, _disappointed_ in you! He would want you to move on! The only reason I'm still here is because I pity you! PITY YOU! I don't want you to get hurt! You're only going to get yourself killed if you continue!"

I felt a hot rush of red on my cheeks. I only heard my heavy breathing and I saw Morgan's face. It showed shock but was then washed by hurt. His mouth was shaped into a big _O_ as he stuttered for words. The thing was I didn't apologize or take back my words. He needed the wake up call, even if he didn't want it. I walked out of the room, waiting for him to get back to his senses.

**2 Months Later...**

Winter was finally gone and summer had finally begun, the scorching heat replacing the bitter cold. I'd be lying if I said that Morgan got better because he didn't. Yes, he got out of bed and began doing _some _of the tasks but he continued to puzzle and worry me everyday. The man would still continue his sessions of talking to himself but he also had found himself a new obsession. To write.

Morgan would scrape anything; markers, pencils, pens, even chalk and would write on the walls. They were filled with words, his favorite being "clear". He also wrote down names, such as Duane and Jenny, to others I didn't know like Jack or Mary. Morgan once yelled at me when I tried reading the things he wrote, stories that were hidden inside of him for who knows how long. I gave up later, not wanting to invade his privacy.

Today was different. It was dawn as I could see the beautiful grayish-purple through the window. I got up earlier than expected and had a lot of time on my hands. Since Morgan was still sleeping, I tiptoed my way to his 'wall' and began skimming through the paragraph of words. Most of it said just said the word "clear". He told how Duane was bit, writing down how it was my fault. When I decided that I had enough and was about to leave, I spotted my name in great big red letters; all in caps. I was surprised how I didn't notice it earlier. Using my index finger, I read the death blowing words:

**_"KIERSTYN NOT CLEAR"_**

I stared at it, flabbergasted. A gasp escaped from my lips, my stomach churning. Suddenly the room felt dizzy and I leaned into the green word-littered wall for support. Piecing the puzzle together, I found what "clear" meant. And it certainly wasn't good.

I felt a gun cock and I found myself staring at the pistol pointed at my head. The person's finger tremulously shook as it was placed around the trigger. I gulped, a great big lump in my throat. Fear enveloped me and my shoulders tensed, trying to think of ways to escape. For a moment, we just looked at each other; our eyes imploring for answers although there weren't any.

"Morgan," my voice wavered, hoping he can lower the gun. "Calm down. We can discuss this."

For a moment, Morgan hesitated, and he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. His eyes met mine and I lifted my chin up a bit, not wanting to back down. "Please...you don't want to do this."

The man laughed manically and shook his head but kept his eyes on me. "Is that what you think? I wanted you dead for _months,_" he sneered as I flinched at those words. "Wouldn't shooting you right now be less painful than getting eaten by _them_?"

I just stayed quiet, pursing my lips. Was he actually being serious? How had my trustworthy friend turned into someone I now considered as an enemy? But this wasn't the Morgan I knew; he was far from it. The man that took me in and helped me was gone. The man that would laugh and try to lighten the mood with corny jokes was gone. The man whose face expressed hope was _gone_. And even if I tried to help him as much as I can, I don't think I'll be able to repair him. "Well?" Morgan persisted.

But why didn't he shoot me now? If he really did want me dead, wouldn't he have took the opportunity earlier? Maybe, just maybe, there was still some of him there. I felt Morgan shift uncomfortably as I stole one glance to see the pistol still pointed at my head.

Looking at the floor I mumbled, "I still have hope in you." I then stared at the man in front of me. The atmosphere was tense and I felt shivers run down my spine. What I was about to do right now was risky, possibly insane, but I needed to know if the Morgan I knew was still there. "Shoot me. Shoot me right now."

He shifted more and more as his jaw clenched. Flexing his fingers absently around the trigger, I ordered, "Shoot me, Morgan. Come on are you chicken?" _What am I doing, provoking him like that?!_ My mind warned me. Maybe I was the one losing it.

"Shoot me!"

Silence.

"Shoot. Me."

"No..." he said softly. I needed to hear it again, just incase I misheard.

"Kill me now! Isn't that what you wanted?"

"No."

"_NOW_!"

"NO!" he screamed and I flinched at the sound of the gunshot, my eyes shut. The pain I expected wasn't there and I raised an eyebrow, confused. Opening one eye, I looked to see Morgan fuming, breathing heavily as he was scrutinizing his pistol. I looked to my left, at least a few feet away from me to see the window shattered. Instead of shooting me, he shot the window. That was the only proof I needed and I exhaled a breath of relief.

"If you get close to my wall ever again, I won't miss it that time." He threatened, his tone a decibel lower. He sauntered out of the room as he went back to his cot; as if nothing happened at all.

At least someone would get some sleep.

...

The next day wasn't any better. Although it seemed strange, I had a bad feeling. Like a sixth instinct; you knew something bad was going to happen but you didn't know exactly what it was. I blamed that paranoia was the cause but the thought didn't shake off me.

Morgan got protective of his 'wall', barricading a small part of it with his cot. However, he decided to keep watch of our little town by going on the roof of the tallest building. Using a sniper, Morgan kept quiet, his full body gear on.

And me, you ask? I, not wanting to get on Morgan's nerve, decided to go look for some items. Plus, I needed to get my thoughts straightened out. I stopped by Morgan to see that his attention was focused on taking out walkers, his right eye looking through the sniper scope.

"See anything?" I attempted at small talk.

He simply snorted as he attention was still focused on the scope of his sniper. "Some walkers roamin' around. I'll clear it out later today if they get caught." I lifted an eyebrow up at the mention of the word 'I' instead of 'we' but did not comment. Instead I sighed and looked sadly at my friend yet enemy (frenemy if you will). "Be careful, Morgan."

He just continued looking through his scope and I headed downstairs, ready to head out to a place I hadn't dare step foot on. But I was now.

It's been months since I've been in the cellar. There was no reason to be in there since Morgan took all the supplies - mostly liquor - out before I could. And there was no reason to be here now yet I stood right in the same exact spot where—

I slumped to my knees, feeling weak. And hopeless. Feeling flustered, I threw my handgun across the room as it banged against the wall. I ran my fingers over the dried black blood on the cement floor and bit back a sob.

_"You," Morgan seethed. "You caused this."_

"I'm sorry," I whimpered. God, I was such a wimp. Instead of hardening me, all the apocalypse did was soften me. Images of a zombified Duane clouded my mind, his milky yellow eyes paralyzing me.

Eventually the haunting pictures in my head ceased until I fell into a restless sleep.

* * *

_"Kyle, what are you doing?" asked my mom, who was more exhausted than usual. She closed her eyes and sighed in frustration as I tried to stifle a laugh at the new obsession my little brother had. _

_"Preparing for a zombie apocalypse," Kyle stated matter-of-factly as if it was the most obvious answer in the entire world. Canned food and bottles of water littered his tiny sky blue room. Blankets and a pair of flashlights were piled in the corner while he had a _rubber_ knife in his hand. In the other, he had a water gun. I just had got to take a picture of this and post it on Instagram. _

_"That stupid video game really got you hooked, huh?" I teased, a small smirk plastered on my face. He stuck his tongue out at me and rolled his eyes. My brother and I got along sometimes. I always stood up for him and he seemed to look up to me. We had each other's back, even though at times we would argue over the littlest of things.  
_

_"It's Left 4 Dead, dummy." he corrected as he went over to his TV. He took out one of the video game boxes and threw it at me as I easily caught it. On the cover was a bloody hand as the letters said the title Kyle had mentioned. _

_"Whatever," I murmured, "Zombies don't even exist dork. They're a work of _fiction_. As in, fake." _

_Kyle's eyes narrowed at me."When they _do_ attack I'll be sure to not lend you any of my supplies. Only mom and dad will get to use them."_

_"I can steal your supplies once your guts get ripped apart by them. I'll even give the zombies a thank-you card to express my gratitude."_

_Kyle fumed and was going to charge at me until mother a finger on his chest. Her eyes glared at me, dark gray bags under them. She had to be fighting with dad more of often since she seemed so tired. "Keirtsyn enough, and Kyle clean this mess up. Grandma is coming over tomorrow and you want her to see this?! Not acceptable!"_

_"But mom, this will come in handy!" Kyle complained, a big frown on his face. My eight-year old brother's energetic blue eyes were hurt, an occurrence that was extremely rare. Even I was a bit sad._

_"Kyle, my dear son." Mother sighed as she squeezed my brother's shoulder. "A zombie apocalypse will never happen. It just never will."_

* * *

The sound of a gunshot awoke me and I instantly grabbed my gun. At first, I thought I just imagined it but when I heard more firing I knew that Morgan was in trouble. Taking a deep breath, I ran out the haunting cellar.

As I got closer to the building, I spotted a man who had his pistol raised high in the air. I cursed under my breath when I realized that he was aiming at the rooftop, where Morgan was supposedly was. But he wasn't. I inched closer to the man who was now hiding behind the trash bins, my grip on my handgun tightening.

Suddenly, Morgan appeared and begins shooting wildly at the bins. I froze and hid behind an abandoned car, though I kept a keen eye. When it seemed Morgan got a prefect hit, a bullet hits him in the stomach and he collapses to the floor.

"NO!" I shrieked, running to my friend. I ran my hands frantically over Morgan's shirt, hoping to pry it off. For a moment, I forgot that a man and two other people were there, watching. I raised my gun, my eyes widening with fear. "Get away. I-I swear, I'll shoot."

The man clenched his jaw and gazes at me with cold blue eyes. A dark skinned woman with a sword in her vice-like grip stares at me warily, from a distance. A boy about my age stood beside the man, his blue eyes just as icy. "Your partner attacked first." said the elder.

I rolled my eyes at him and looked at the boy. "Who the hell are you?! You just don't shoot people!"

The man looked at the boy (who was probably the son as they looked strikingly similar) with worry and wariness. "You okay?" he asked, completely ignoring my question. Narrowing my eyes as my fingers dug into the palm of my hands, it took all of my humanity to not shoot him in the head.

"Yeah," mumbled the boy although he scrutinized me with his icy blue eyes. He looked sympathetic, a bit guilty also but I wasn't buying it. Not yet, at least.

"I told you to run for the car. I didn't want you to do that."

"I had to," protested the boy and that was when I couldn't handle it anymore. Our face inches apart, I jabbed his chest with my index finger as blood rushed to my face.

"No, you didn't," I seethed. "You aren't Superman and you sure as hell aren't here to save the day. He's innocent, unlike _you_." Not wanting to see his expression, I turned my attention back to Morgan and felt that he had a bulletproof vest. I sighed in relief and thanked God (if he was even real) that Morgan was wearing it.

I un-velcroed the vest and lifted his shirt to see his abdomen badly bruised. My mind was suddenly overwhelmed son all the bad outcomes that could come out of this. My train of thought was abruptly interrupted by the man's voice. "He's alive." I nodded in relief and ran through my knotty ponytail, exhaling.

"Do we care?" sneered the woman and I scoffed at her, earning a deadly glare.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, I took off his helmet and mask to find my partner unconscious. "Morgan?" I questioned, my voice barely audible; lower than a whisper.

The man kneeled beside me as his eyes widened in shock. He looked as if he were about to pass out as his hands balled up into fists against the pavement for support. "Yeah, we do care."

* * *

**A/N: Hehe, what do you think? I hope you enjoyed it as I am a bit nervous since writing action scenes aren't my best suit. Still learning! If this chapter gets more than five reviews, I'll update quicker! :3**

**I hoped you liked it! This chapter was hard to write! Hope the characters weren't OOC or anything like that. I apologize if Kierstyn seems so whiny but she's been through a lot so i hope you understand. Her character will be revealed more in the upcoming chapters! The amount of attention for this story is spectacular! Each and everyone one are you are amazing! So please review! You guys are the best! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hello everyone, I hope you're not mad at me. I was originally going to update on Wednesday or Thursday, but I got sick. I had 103 degree (Fahrenheit) fever and I felt like my legs were made of rubber. I still feel like that and as of now, I am lying in my bed in a rather uncomfortable position typing away on my laptop. What a great way to start Spring Break! :P**

**Anyway, enough of my sob life and I truly am sorry for not updating earlier. You guys have been amazing with the reviews, favorites, alerts, etc. and you will be getting a recognition at the need of this chapter. You all deserve it! Thank you and enjoy this chapter (and I apologize for any mistakes).**

* * *

_Chapter 4_

_Long Road_

"Morgan," the man hoarsely whispered. I raised my gun and pointed it at his head, fear taking over. He quirked an eyebrow at me and I saw his hand reach for the holster that held his pistol, probably getting his own weapon.

"H-how do you know his name?" I tremored. I remembered whispering the name Morgan a few minutes ago but they couldn't have heard.

The man noticed my stress and rose his hands in surrender. He soothed me by talking in a soft tone, as if lulling a baby to sleep. "Calm down. I'm Rick. We are here to help. Lower your gun and we'll help Mor—" he pursed his lips, choosing his next words carefully. "We'll help your friend."

I glanced at the other two people warily before looking at my injured friend. Morgan needed help, and I wasn't going to let my fear prevent that. This guy, Rick, somehow seemed to know Morgan and that both made us share common interests.

But what if Rick and his partners did something harmful to Morgan or me? I didn't trust them even if we both wanted the same goals. The walkers aren't the only thing we fear of in this cruel world...

I sighed and scratched the back of my neck nervously. "Fine," I concluded reluctantly. I scrutinized the woman and her sword, and she didn't look too happy helping Morgan. Narrowing my eyes I said, "But that sword-woman has to put that weapon away."

"It's a katana," she murmured followed by a scoff. The grip on her "katana" tightened as she looked at Rick, awaiting for him to detest my words. Instead he nodded and said that the katana should not be in use. She asked for some privacy and they began to have a dispute over this.

"They better hurry up," I scowled while I felt for a pulse on Morgan. It was there, the heart thumping softly. It was there but was faint. Oh so faint.

"I _am_ sorry I shot him." said a voice from behind. I turned to see it was the boy I yelled at earlier. My eyes widened at his apology as I took a good look at him. He was tall, about thirteen or fourteen, and wore a cowboy hat that made him look even bigger in size. Like all of us, his clothes were filthy with dried blood and dirt and his shoes didn't look any better. The boy's face was smeared a little with soil and his cheeks were flushed as a trickle of sweat ran down the sides of his face. His brown hair reached to his shoulders as his blue eyes looked at me with empathy. They were a pretty sky blue, and the shade got lighter as it reached the pupil.

I blushed profusely and nodded stiffly. I had a clearer image of him than I did with Duane. And I barely knew the guy, only learning that he shot Morgan; my only friend. "S'kay." I replied, though I wasn't forgiving him that easily. I should at least be nice and kind to them if I want the trio to help Morgan. "Sorry for yelling at you, um..." I didn't know his name and I looked at him questioningly, avoiding his blue orbs.

"Carl, Rick's son. The woman is Michonne." he stated firmly, his mouth set in a straight line. It seemed that he was regretting giving out his name (and the others, might I add) and a crooked smile creeped onto my face as he stared at me awkwardly. Maybe they weren't as bad as I thought. Maybe I could trust them.

Or maybe I was just flat-out wrong.

Carl cleared his throat before asking, "What's your name?"

Before I can say anything, Rick came over and glanced at Carl and me before turning his attention to Morgan. "Michonne and I will pick up Morgan and you'll lead the way."

I bounced a bit too enthusiastically, eager to get Morgan the help he needed. "Sounds like a plan to me." I guided them to our building, Carl behind all of us, as I warned them with the booby traps that blocked our path. While Rick and Michonne were carrying Morgan up the stairs, Rick asked me, "I remember Morgan had a son. Duane, right? You mind telling me where he is?"

I gulped. This guy must have known Morgan really well. And long before I showed up. We approached the sign made out of cloth that said, "_NOT SHITTING YOU_," and I jumped over the booby trapped wire. Maybe I should have tore that trap down.

"Watch out for the wire. Unless you wanna get your head chopped off." I replied dryly (avoiding Rick's question) and entered the room. I heard someone warn Carl as they entered also staring at the bloody axe that would've greeted them if they touched the wire.

I passed through the armory and pointed at Morgan's cot, all the way in the back of the room. "You can place him in his cot. After that, you can all leave and I'll heal Morgan."

The trio looked at all the weapons and seemed to ignore my commands. Rick sighed. "I showed him that weapon's locker last year." I studied his face to see if there was a hint of regret though there didn't seem to be any.

"And it had all of this in it?" Michonne questioned incredulously.

"No, not even half." remarked the man. "He's been busy."

"I've been busy," I cut in. "I got the weapons from other towns while he was..." I faltered at the end and wondered if I should tell them about Duane. Rick raised an eyebrow at me as did Michone and Carl, but I just shook my head; dismissing the haunting thought. "Just place him in the cot."

They nodded as they practically ran to the back of the room, as Morgan was slipping from their grip. I helped them place an unconscious Morgan and they all soon looked at all the weapons I collected. I may be wrong, but their eyes looked...greedy, like they were going to take all of it. Michonne and Carl then grabbed a bag as they began to touch the guns. Rick lingered behind, unsure of what to do.

"Hey!" I shouted at them and they froze in their place, dropping the ammo they had. My eyes narrowed as I saw quickly their bag was filled with Morgan's weapons. _My_ weapons. "What do you think you're doing?! Did I say you can take them? I'm right here ya know!"

They looked at me, shocked at my outburst. "We need them, we're running out of ammo." Michone jabbed icily.

"So do we. Once Morgan wakes up, he'll tell you what you can take and whatnot."

Michone glared at me but dropped her bag. Carl looked at me sheepishly, his cheeks flushing a bright pink, as he did the same, too. Rick uttered out a sorry but he was concentrated at the wall full of words.

"That's his little sanctuary," I commented, my gaze on Morgan; hoping he'll wake up.

Rick's eyes met mine and he nodded with understanding before inspecting the room. "Your name is?" he inquired.

"Keirstyn." I answered loud enough so everyone can hear. I kneeled beside Morgan and squeezed his hand. He actually looked...peaceful. This was probably the only time his face wouldn't be filled with hatred. Reluctantly leaving his side, I walked over by Rick to see his head touching a walkie-talkie, his face deep in thought. Suddenly my head whizzed me back to buried memories.

* * *

_I touched the walkie-talkie, feeling the buttons and grooves of the device. Kyle used to have tons of these scattered in his room, and I smiled faintly at the thought of my deceased brother. _

_"Watcha doing?" asked Duane as he plopped right next to me. He seemed tired and I thought of last night, when Morgan and the boy were having a long talk. I didn't eavesdrop but Duane ended up crying himself to a restless sleep. Being a friend, I wanted to talk to him about it but he would always avoid the topic._

_"Just thinking," I replied wistfully. _

_Duane took the device gently from my hands, his black eyes sparkling. A chuckle escaped from his mouth and his face masked nostalgia. "My dad hates this thing. Don't know how you found it. He chucked it at a wall once."_

_My head tilted slightly to the left, curiosity bubbling inside of me, and joined in his laughing. That didn't seem like something Morgan would do. "I found it in the chest while I was getting a pistol. Why does he hate the device?"_

_Duane shook his head and a frown creased on his forehead. He exhaled a sigh and the atmosphere quickly turned tense and rather awkward. "On the first days of the walkers, we helped a confused guy. He didn't even know what a walker was and he said he woke up from a coma. Just wanted to help his family."  
_

_"Poor guy," I interrupted, feeling incredibly sorry for all that happened to him in only a few days. Imagine waking up from a deep coma only finding yourself alone, with no family and trying to fend yourself against dead cannibals. It made me shudder. At least he found the Jones, who took him in as they did with me. There aren't many good people like them and I know if I had seen the man I don't know if I would've helped him._

_"Yeah," Duane agreed dryly, looking at the walkie-talkie, his expression unreadable. He continued, "He was nice. Once we taught him how to kill one of those bitches, we worked together. The dude was an officer and he got us weapons and a nice hot shower from the police station. I thought that he would be our partner for a long time; so did dad. But he said he wanted to see his family. To see if they were safe or one _them_. He left us a walkie-talkie and said he would keep us informed about Atlanta and other stuff in a few days. We were supposed to meet up..." Duane's voice turned bitter and venomous at the end as his hands were balled up into fists. _

_"What happened?" I spoke gently. I squeezed his shoulder and his steely eyes darted to me angrily. My gaze never wavered and his expression softened as he sighed heavily. _

_"We never got anything. No message and we paid attention everyday. Everyday, every dawn, every hour. I hope he got eaten."_

_My eyes narrowed at his harshness. I wanted to say something but I didn't. I just wanted for him to calm down. Then I put myself into Duane's shoes. This man who abandoned them did not deserve an ounce of Morgan's or Duane's sweetness. Although I haven't met him (and probably never will), I wished he was the dead walking. "Wait, what was his name?"_

_Duane's shoulder stiffened as he put the walkie-talkie back in the chest; it's rightful place. "Something with a R. Richard?" He waved his hand, as if dismissing the thought. He then began to relax and it was a relief to see a smile back on his face. "Who cares? Let's do something else." _

* * *

My eyes widened at the discovery. I looked at Rick, his face dazed as he read the walls that said Duane turned. There he was. The man who left the Jones without a word. The one who Duane and Morgan helped and cared about. The heartless man who gave them hope until he stabbed them in the back with a horrible lie.

The man that I prayed each night for his painful death.

Rick caught a glimpse at me and I stood there, not knowing what to do. If I killed him, the other two might hurt Morgan or me. But then I stared at his face and saw hurt. He looked like he had taken a punch to the gut. He did care.

"No." he whispered. Carl and Michonne were right behind him, looking at both of us, confused. "We're gonna wait until he wakes up. Make sure he's okay. That all right with you?" Rick, the former police officer, glanced at me, waiting patiently for an answer.

I exhaled not even realizing I was holding my breath, and broke into a smile. I may have finally lost it, but I trusted them, even if it was a small amount. Nodding I said, "Thanks. That would be nice. But you don't have to."

"She's right," said Michonne, breaking the conversation between Rick and I. "We're not staying. He tried to kill us. And this girl was about to shoot you in the head earlier before."

My blood boiled as I once again glared at the dark-skinned woman. For a second, I forgot that she had a deadly katana strapped to her back. I took a few steps towards her. "Why you little—"

Rick grabbed me from behind and stepped forward. "He told us to go. They didn't know who we were." the man defended and I felt appreciative of his support and possible loyalty.

Michonne didn't back down but she knew that she would lose this fight. Carl's head, including mine, darted back and forth as they gave their reasons. I felt like I was watching a tennis match as the ball continued passing through the left and right side of the field quickly. Carl met my gaze and he shrugged, not surprised by this. I wondered if this was how I looked like with Morgan, constantly arguing.

"Have you taken a look around this place? The spikes, the traps, the axe."

"You think he's crazy?" Rick asked hotly.

"No," Michonne replied defiantly, with authority. Her eyes then flew down to me. "I think he's dangerous."

I looked at the floor. They expected me to say something but I didn't know _what_ to say. For the first time, I agreed with the woman. Morgan was dangerous. But that didn't mean the normal part of him was gone.

Rick said my thoughts aloud and announced again that they were staying. Michonne didn't look satisfied with the answer as she peered at Morgan. He would wake up soon and who knew how he would act like. Even _I_ couldn't control him.

Rick took restraint zips from the boxes of weapons and tied Morgan to his cot as I watched sadly. He looked at me for approval and I nodded numbly, knowing it was the right yet wrong thing to do. Not wanting to see anymore, I headed to where Carl was and stood by him, looking at the drawn map of King County. I've see it so many times that I didn't give a damn but Carl looked at it with a depressed expression.

The father came by. "What do you see?"

"Our neighborhood." the boy replied hollowly. It must have been terrible, to see the town you lived in, dead and replaced with traps and walkers. "It's gone. Our home is gone."

"Is that why you wanted come? To see the house?"

Rick got no answer as Carl looked at the map absently, his blue eyes dull and hurt. "Carl!" We both exclaimed, hoping to snap him out of this trance.

"I-I just wanted to come." stammered the boy and I sighed, suddenly feeling sullen before I heard a crunching sound. I turned around to see Michonne eating my bag of chips, the one I was saving for later!

"We're eating their food now?" Rick asked, sounding exasperated.

"The mat said welcome." Michonne said casually and I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration.

I walked over to her and held out my hand. "Mind if I eat some? They _were_ my bag."

She looked at me suspiciously for a minute or two before shrugging and giving me a handful. I stuffed them in my mouth ravenously; at least we were getting somewhere.

Carl broke the silence by mentioning that the trio needed a crib for Judith. It didn't take a genius to know that Judith was probably a baby to take care of. He wanted to go to the daycare center to find some, though Rick didn't like the idea.

"It's just around the corner and the whole town is covered with walker traps. Nothing bad is going to happen." Carl complained.

"It really isn't that far." I offered, "And I do remember seeing some cribs there. I could go with him if you like. Anything to repay you for helping me with Morgan." Carl sent me a small small of gratitude. In the end, Rick negotiated a deal that consisted of Michonne going with the boy to find some cribs.

I finished Michonne's (or mine, actually) bag of chips, but my stomach grumbled a bit and I looked at Rick sheepishly. In this world, you were always hungry, even if you had a feast.

Giving my thanks, I gave Rick our last bag of chips. He was probably hungry and gave me a look that screamed out,_ I couldn't_, although he looked at it yearningly.

"Just take it. It's the last one anyway." Rick nodded a thanks and ate it one by one, saving some for his son.

"Sorry for what happened earlier," I said meekly. "We thought you were attacking us and well..."

"Don't worry about it," he replied, a soft look on his face. We both looked at each other in understanding and acknowledgment before turning to a sleeping Morgan. He held the walkie-talkie in his hand and apologized to Morgan. Once he finished, I decided to spill out the truth; I just couldn't hold it in me anymore.

"You, you were the guy weren't you? The one who woke from the coma and met Morgan and..."—I choked on the next word—"Duane."

Rick scrubbed his long-grown beard before tilting his head slightly. "How do you know that?" he asked in a grave tone.

"Duane. He told me before he ya know. Turned." I said curtly and he glanced at me before taking a rifle and looking through the scope.

"I gave this rifle to Morgan before I left. I really did think I would see him again." Rick looked at the word-littered walls and said, "I'm glad you came into their lives when I couldn't. You may think that you can't do anything to help Morgan and the...stuff and things he's been through, but your presence is enough."

I twiddled with my fingers yet gazed at the man with curiosity, my eyes imploring for answers. It sounded like he meant it and it changed my views on him. _Maybe_ my presence was enough for Morgan.

Suddenly everything happened in a flash. Morgan jumped on Rick until Rick hit him with the butt of the rifle. Morgan landed on the ground with a large _THUD_ as his hands were free of the string. I cursed under my breath and ran over to my now awakened friend as he tried to get up, a sharp knife in his right hand.

"Morgan!" I shrieked in horror, my eyes practically falling out of my sockets. I tried getting closer to him, but Rick held me back with his tight grip on my arm. "Rick, let me go! I'll get the knife!"

"Do you know who I am? Do you see who I am?!" Rick shouted at Morgan.

This only made Morgan more chaotic as his eyes widened in fury. His legs and arms trashed around before glancing at the both of us. "People wearing dead people's faces!"

"Morgan listen," I reasoned, my voice hoarse.

"NO I DON'T KNOW YOU!" he screamed, pointing fingers at the both of us. I backed up and took my knife from my pocket as it trembled in my hands. I was tense, ready to coil at anybody who tried to touch me.

"You do know me!" Rick yelled, despair taking over.

Morgan, angry, finally got up and attacked the other man. "I DON'T. KNOW. YOU!" he seethed as Rick clung him to the wall.

"You saved my life Morgan!" the former officer said fiercely. "You know me! Look at me!" Morgan only punched Rick as he tumbled to the ground. Knowing that Rick needed my help, I jumped on top of Morgan as he fell face down the floor. My knees holding his arms in place, I took the knife from him and stuffed it into my pocket. He trashed around before I lost my balance and Morgan flipped as _I_ ended up on the ground. He looked at me with wild, murderous eyes.

"Morgan, please," I whined. I struggled to escape from his grasp but reached to no avail and failed. Rick tried getting up to help but winced in pain. I searched Morgan's eyes, hoping to see the old him. He was dangerous, like Michonne had earlier said, but he still had to be there. I just knew it.

"NOOOOO!" he raged as his fist connected to my face. Then all I saw was pitch black.

* * *

**A/N: God, I'm so nervous. This chapter had a lot of dialogue. _Clear_ is my favorite episode, so I couldn't cut off the amazing lines. Yet I did cut off about Rick getting stabbed. I didn't want him injured and made Kierstyn get punched in the face instead. :3 **

**yeah, I made Michonne a total bitch/jerk to Kierstyn but they did bond over food, no? XD I just figured that Michonne would be protective of herself and the group after meeting a new person. But they will become good friends, or so I hope. **

**I hope you like the chapter! Please review! I had like 10 reviews from the last one! It would make my sick day turn into a better one to see that you guys reviewed! **

**Special thanks to: Happy Face J, Gemini Cross, M.T. Mystery Twins, WardenN7, Guest, love or pain, Hamburgers For Orphans, Gabby, Beautifully Corrupted, Rebel29, Cynthia, and BLUENIGHT23 for the reviews! You guys are the best! :D**

**Now I'm going to sleep. I'm so tired...**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hello everybody! Thank you all for the favorites, alerts, reviews, etc! Especially the kind reviews, you guys are AWESOME! **

**The season finale was amazing (I won't give spoilers, so you can continue reading) and I can't believe we have to wait for so many months until we can watch Season 4! God, it was emotional!**

**Since I have spring break, I'll take advantage of it by writing more and updating quicker. These next chapters are going to be heavily influenced by the last episodes of Season 3. After that I'll be able to write my own twists! *smiles mischievously***

**So I'm sorry if it seems word by word. Read and enjoy! :)**

* * *

_Chapter 5_

_Long Road_

I don't know how long I sat there, slumped against the wall. All I heard was muffled sounds and my head pounded as if it were about to implode. My ears rang annoyingly and I covered them with my hands; hoping for it to stop.

Blinking a few times, I opened one eye to see that I was still in the room where Morgan had...

Where he had punched me.

If I said I was surprised by the action Morgan did, I'd be lying. I have been reluctantly waiting for this all along. The man has been crazy since the death of Duane and it took me so long to realize it. Unfortunately the other side of my conscience that's been nagging me, saying that Morgan was a mad man, was right. He was beyond help.

Using my hand, I faintly touched my cheek and hissed in pain at the bruise that was forming. It felt swollen and I winced in disgust. Groaning, I got up, using the walls for support and stretched my tired, aching back. I tried opening my jaw, but that only made it worse. Guess I won't be talking for a while. I felt my pockets and let of a sigh of relief to feel my knife there although my gun wasn't.

My mind then immediately went to Rick. What happened? How long was I out? Is he okay? Did Morgan harm him too?

"You said that you would turn your radio every day at dawn and YOU WERE NOT THERE!" shouted an all too familiar voice. My head whipped to the room where Morgan and I slept. Slowly tiptoeing my way, I caught a glimpse of a tied Morgan and a shocked Rick, his hair unruly and sticking out in strange places. They were both sitting on the floor, their eyes staring at each with such intensity and vigor. I sucked in a deep breath, feeling the tense atmosphere and saw the look Morgan gave to Rick. It was the same look he gave me. Full of loathing and hatred.

I decided to stay in my position; far from the both of them as they 'talked' things out. It was clear that being there would be wrong but I held my knife tightly, ready to spring if there were any attacks. My breathing quickened as my heartbeat raced. I wondered if Michonne and Carl were back yet. If they were, wouldn't they have helped us?

"I-I, we, kept getting pushed farther out," Rick explained, hoping to defend his side. To be honest, I couldn't blame Morgan; when he needed help the most no one was there. I imagined myself turning on the walkie-talkie every dawn and tuning in the station the officer told me to use, hoping that he would answer. That anyone would reply to the pleas and cries of help, though all I met was static. The thought alone made me shudder.

"I had to, I didn't have a choice," defended the man as Morgan shook with anger, his eyes narrowing at the officer. Rick slowly got up and began pacing around the room. I bid behind a cardboard box, hoping he wouldn't notice me. I wanted to hear his reasons; his side of the story. "I found my wife and my boy. I had people. I had—" he faltered and I saw how flustered he was. He shifted his feet uncomfortably and stared at Morgan, though the said man refused to meet Rick's piercing gaze. "Morgan, I had to keep them safe. We kept getting pushed back deeper into the country. I swear to God, I didn't have a choice." Rick sounded desperate, his face contorted in misery, pleading for forgiveness.

A moment of agonizing silence ensued and I was ready to make an appearance until Morgan kicked something and I flinched at the sound. I squinted my eyes to see the small object was a walkie-talkie. _The_ walkie-talkie. "You can have your radio back 'cause it looks like I finally found you," Morgan replied icily. His eyes met Rick and I started at the deadly glare the mad man gave. "You found your wife, and your son. That's what happened, right? You found them."

Rick nodded warily, awaiting for what Morgan would say. Morgan hesitated before asking, "And did they, did she, did your w-wife...did she turn?" Rick thought for a moment as his eyes expressed a hurt expression.

"No. No, she died." At this, Morgan chuckled darkly as I gaped at the oncoming words he would say.

"So you didn't have to see that then. No, of course not!" he chuckled once more, a bit more manically. "Not like me, no!" A sinister smile curled onto his lips as he burst into a fit of laughter. "Not like Jenny, not like my wife. You remember what happened to her? You remember who she was?" The man earned a nod from Rick as a look of remembrance flickered on Morgan's face. "Oh, you. You gave me the gun. You tried."

"What did I try Morgan, what did I try?" Rick inquired gently as he inched closer to him.

"You tried me to get to do it 'cause I was supposed to do it. I was supposed to kill her, my wife; my Jenny." A creepy and frightening smile returned on Morgan's face. His tone was now playful, something that sent dark chills down my spine. "But..I let it go! Ha! We was always looking for food, ya know? It always, and I mean always, came down to food. And then, I was checking out a cellar with Duane and..._Kierstyn_—" he spat my name out with disgust, "—yet I didn't want them to come down with me. And then Kierstyn told me something was wrong. Walkers were coming. There were fear in her eyes, pure fear."

Tears stung my eyes as they threatened to fall down but I quickly wiped them away. I bit my quivering bottom lip, suddenly feeling small. Just like the thirteen year old I was.

Morgan took in a deep shaky breath before continuing. "And when we came up...s-she was there, standing right in front of him. And he had his gun up and he couldn't do it. Kierstyn shot Jenny but—but—"

I shook my head and buried it in my legs as I refrained from my shoulders shaking, not wanting to hear anymore. After months of unanswered questions, this was who Jenny was. Duane's words when we were cornered by the walkers popped into my head.

_"But Keir, I can't do it. My m—" _

_My mother, _I finished for my lost friend_. My mother was the walker. My mother would be the one who introduced me to this earth and would be the one who would cause my last day to end painfully and abruptly._

Morgan diverted my thoughts while he screamed,

"I see red, I see red. Everything I see is red. Everything I see is RED! And I do it! Not that stupid girl, but me! I do it! Finally...but finally was too late. I was selfish. I was weak." Wincing at his words, I slowly looked up to see Morgan smiling dryly at Rick. "Hey, your boy, is he dead?"

Rick's blue eyes slightly narrowed as he replied curtly. "No."

"No? No? Well, he will be." Morgan stated bluntly. "See people like you, the good people, they always die. And the bad people do, too. But the weak people...the people like me...we have inherited this earth."

I couldn't handle it anymore. I ran to Morgan and stood by Rick who was kneeling beside him. Morgan laughed hysterically while Rick looked at me with astonishment and concern, his eyes widening at the big swelling, bruise I had. "Well lookie here! Sleeping Beauty is finally awake! Oh, but she ain't a beauty though, I can tell you that! A nice, ugly bruise for your ugly face!" he sneered, on the edge of hysteria.

"Shut up Morgan," I hissed, my face inching closer towards his. Suddenly the pain from my cheek was dispelled as I looked at my once friend while my eyes softened in pity. "What happened to you? Duane, he would be—"

"YOU DON'T KNOW HIM! Not Duane, not me, not anyone!" Morgan barked as I stepped back, Rick suddenly lifting me up as he placed me behind him; like a protective father.

"Morgan," he reasoned, trying to calm the man down.

The mad man began banging his head against the post he was tied against to. "Just kill me. Please."

Rick ignored his pleas and walked across the room, beckoning me to come. Hesitantly, I followed as a frowned marked Rick's features. He sighed and covered his face with his hand. "He's worse than I thought."

I nodded and sighed in defeat. "It was a stupid decision for allowing you to stay. Michonne's right; he's dangerous. A ticking time bomb ready to blow up." Subconsciously, I rubbed my bruised cheek, cursing myself for talking.

The older man looked at me with worried eyes. "You okay? He knocked you out cold."

I shivered at the thought and avoided his gaze, taking a sudden interest in my battered shoes. "I'm fine," I answered shortly before changing the subject. "Why are you still even here? I would've left by now if I were you."

"Carl and Michonne are still out. Plus, I was gonna ask Morgan if we can take some weapons."

"Those were a lot of guns your little group were taking." I pointed out as he nodded, grimly. "Any reason why?"

Rick placed both hands on his hips, standing a bit more taller. Minutes passed by as he came up with a reply. "I'll tell you why if you give us some of your weapons." he bargained. I instinctively turned to Morgan, seeing what he would say.

_He's long gone_, I thought bitterly._ Your on your own_. I pursed my lips as Rick tapped his foot impatiently. Sighing, I went over to where the weapons where and took the bag Carl used earlier as I stuffed some guns and ammo. I heard Morgan's voice bellowing at me.

"What do you think you're doing?"

I stared at the man and shook my head, knowing I would be wasting my time if I tried talking to him. But I did it anyway. "What does it look like? I'm giving him some of our weapons."

"Why?" Morgan inquired. Rick, who was watching from the sidelines, looked at me; possibly wondering what I would say.

Deciding if I should spill the truth, I shrugged and looked at Morgan innocently."I dunno."

Morgan only shook his head and began ranting weird stuff. Sad, I walked over to Rick and raised an eyebrow as I handed him the bag, expecting the answer.

He sighed and got straight to the point. "There's a group of us who live in a prison."

I tried to hide my shock that they lived in a _prison_, a perfect place to stay hidden from walkers. And safe. "Who's the leader?" I interrupted.

Rick gave me a look that said, _Really?_, but confirmed the answer aloud with confidence and authority. "Me." I nodded and he continued, this time with a frown tugging on his lips.

"But there's another group, a town called Woodbury. They attacked and kidnapped one of our people. We got them back although we had to...damage some of their property. The person who runs the place, the so called _Governor _found out our location and is planning to attack with an army. Doesn't like us at all and I think he wants to take over the prison. He's a sick man." Rick shook his head with disgust to emphasize his point.

I glanced at him skeptically. This 'Governor' guy didn't seem that sick if he wanted to protect his town even though if it was in a form of a war. Then again, he did kidnap some of Rick's people and instead of talking it out and finding solutions, the Governor wanted to commence a battle that will certainly result in blood and death. _As if we didn't have enough of that for one day._

"Maybe you don't need to fight or need these weapons. Can't you converse and solve things out?" I said slowly, though I regretted my words a second later when Rick tightened his grip on the weapon bag and chucked humorlessly. He wasn't going to let go of that thing.

Rick saw the doubt gnawing on me and added, "One of our people escaped the Governor. She said that he kept a tank of heads. Chopped heads of walkers _and_ humans."_  
_

I gulped as I felt the bile rise into my throat. That was enough for me; I didn't need to know anything else. As I looked at Rick, he seemed to speak the truth. "Keep the weapons," I whispered and shook my head, feeling sick. The man nodded but he didn't seem to be finished, his gaze steady on me. _Please no more Governor stories_, my mind prayed.

"I was going to ask Morgan to join the group but now that I see him in an...unstable condition, he looks like he'll cause more trouble than it is. So I'll direct the question to you instead: would you like to join us?" His eyes implored mine, wanting to see my reaction.

I felt the blood drain from my face while my eyes widened. "M-me?" I squeaked, feeling like a complete idiot._ Of course he meant you!_ screamed my head.

"Yes. We're in a prison and we have enough food, something you recently ran out of."

"But Morgan set up traps and you're going into a w-war!" I pointed out as I felt my voice raising higher and higher.

"We also have a doctor that can help with your bruise. Plus, there's another teenager besides Carl. With the help of your weapons, we can win the war and can return to normal."

"But—"

Rick placed a hand on my shoulder as he gave it a tight squeeze. "Look, Kierstyn I'm not forcing you. I'm just letting you know your options. You don't have to stay forever with Morgan. You did all that you could do. If you don't think this place is what you want, we welcome you to the prison. Just know that time is limited."

I bit my bottom lip and kept my eyes on the floor before sighing, something that was occurring more often. "How much?"

"An hour or so. We have to get to the prison before it gets dark and it's pretty far."

Nodding in acknowledgement, I headed to my cot and sort my thoughts out. Morgan came to mind.

_"You did all that you could do,"_ Rick's words replayed in my head as I rubbed my eyes tiredly. Maybe I should just give up repairing my old friend and focus more on myself. But if roles were switched, would he have left at the first opportunity, or would Morgan stick by me and help me with my troubles? This prison group also had food, the thought alone making my stomach rumble in hunger. I also remember Rick saying there was a doctor; this doctor could heal me more than I could. The offer was enticing, but I just couldn't _abandon_ Morgan. Groaning in frustration, I raked my tangled hair. When was the last time I brushed it? I bet that if I saw my reflection in a mirror, I would probably be forming dreads like Michonne.

My thoughts wandered to the Governor and his sinister plans. If I went to the prison, I could get hurt or possibly _die_ during an unnecessary war. Yet if I stay in King County - or rather what's left of it - my mind will slowly deteriorate just like Morgan's.

_Leave,_ persisted my conscience. _Leave this dump and the pathetic, mad man before you turn into him._

"He needs help," I said aloud and looked around the room to see if anyone saw me talking to myself. It looked like everybody was outside and I breathed a sigh of relief. Rick wouldn't want me in the group if he saw me talking to myself. That would end badly.

_Morgan doesn't want your help_, continued my mind.

"What if I do go to the prison and...die?"

_Stop being such a coward. It's better dying in the prison than here. Wouldn't you want a quick bullet to the head instead of dying a slow painful death? _

"I don't know."

After an hour of fighting with my morals and inner demons, I made my decision and headed outside the building to see Morgan (who was released from his tying position earlier) hauling some walker bodies that I forgot to take out and burn. He looked at me expectantly, hoping to get some help but I focused my gaze on Rick, Carl, and Michonne who were storing the weapons and cribs they found in this strange place.

Carl was the first to notice me as he placed a pink crib in the trunk of the car. He greeted me with a smile and I returned it, although it hurt. He looked a bit concerned once he saw my bruise.

"What happened to your cheek?" he asked, though it wasn't thick with worry like I expected it to be. Maybe he was used to seeing injuries like these.

I shrugged though I felt the slightest shade of pink dust my cheeks in embarrassment. "I kind of got..punched." Knowing that this topic was awkward, he dropped it and continued to pack.

Shrugging the weird conversation off, I inspected the weapons. I caught a glimpse of the crossbow I collected when I did a run a few months ago and found a farm. "Aww, you guys are taking this?" I pointed at the heavy weapon with its green bolts.

"Yeah. Wait, do you use that thing?"

"No. But I was going to, if it weren't so heavy." We both chuckled at this as I touched the cool metal. "I was hoping to be a Katniss Everdeen sort of warrior."

Carl looked at me, his blue eyes beaming with curiosity. "You like the Hunger Games?"

I felt my eyes sparkle as I jumped with excitement. "More like _Love_ The Hunger Games. I had the whole trilogy in hardcover and read each book 5 times! Saw the midnight showing of the movie with my best friend and got the DVD on the first day. I even had posters all over my bedroom walls and had the Mockingjay Pin, the Katniss Everdeen doll, and the Hunger Games shirt." I gushed as Carl laughed at my giddiness. I felt like a total nerd but I didn't care. Suddenly I sighed and added sadly, "Too bad I won't see Catching Fire."

"None of us won't." he said, harshly. He refused to meet my gaze and continued to pack his stuff before heading to the passenger seat, shutting the door a bit too hard. A frown tugged onto my lips as I just lost a step at a new friendship. Carl sure seemed to change his mood a lot. And so sudden, too.

"Kierstyn?" a husky voice interrupted my thoughts. I turned to see Rick and gave him a tight smile. "You made up your mind?"

"Yup." I scratched the back of my neck nervously and risked a glance at Morgan who was staring at us intently, an eyebrow raised in question. What I was about to do would upset him greatly. Or so I thought. "I want to go to the prison."

Rick gave me a soft smile and a pat on the back. "Welcome aboard. Hop on the car and we'll be leaving."

"Wait, can I say goodbye to..." I pointed my head in the direction that lead to Morgan. Rick pursed his lips.

"Sure, but please don't take too long. I'll stand by the car in case you need anything." I agreed with him and I headed to Morgan, and I swear I heard Rick mutter behind me, "Be careful."

Soon, I stood face to face with the man I dreaded the most. His eyes narrowed angrily and we stared at each other for a long, painful time. Not wanting to waste anymore of my precious limited minutes, I coughed to break the silence.

"You're leaving me." he said, more of a statement than a question.

"Yes," I drawled slowly, taking a deep breath. "I'm going with Rick. His group are living in a prison and it seems like the best choice. Sorry if this all seems sudden. I'll try to meet you if I can." I tried to place my hand on his shoulder but he swatted it away. It pained me more emotionally than physically. It suddenly felt cold, as if the temperature dropped a few degrees so quickly. I hugged myself, seeking warmth yet feeling alone. Like I was the only person in a big, vast island.

"Thanks for the support," he hissed as he dropped a dead walker on a skateboard. He sent me a cold, dead look as he began going to the yard to burn the dead corpses. But before he could leave, I yanked his arm and dug my fingernails so hard into his skin that it almost drew blood. Morgan's eyes darkened. "Leave, you selfish brat. May your dreams come true!" he mocked as I clenched my teeth.

Blood boiled inside of me as I bit the inside of my cheek hard. How dare he say that! "You know what?! I helped you all I can but it looks like it went down a hole! All in vain! I wish I could have the old Morgan back! But he isn't! So _rot_ in hell!"

Letting go of my tight grip, I stormed to the Hyundai where Rick was standing by and shut the car door forcefully. I crossed my arms, fuming while I saw Carl went farther away from me and closer to the window to the right of him. Michonne, who was in the front seat, turned around and sent me a questioning look but stopped when she saw my bruised cheek. Her steely eyes seemed to soften as she went back to her normal position. I banged my head against the mocha leather seat, trying to cool off.

Rick entered the car as his eyes met mine through the rearview mirror, his look full of pity. I stared at my hands instead and began twiddling with them. I hated pity, as it only made me feel more weak. And weak wasn't going to get me anywhere, especially in a world like this.

The car roared to life as the engine began to hum. Then we were off, leaving the place I've apdated to for a year. Sighing, I rolled down the car window halfway and looked back. But instead of seeing a raging and crying Morgan on his knees, I saw a boy around my age waving happily and laughing, his black eyes possessing a rare type of cheerfulness. Right next to him was a dark-skinned man hugging the boy and looking down proudly at his son; radiating hope and happiness.

I sat back in my normal position, a wave of misery and guilt rolling over me. Why did I yell at Morgan like that? So much for a civil conversation. I abandoned him, leaving him to wallow in his death. My nose dipped in shame. Would he have done the same if the positions were swapped?

I shook my head and swallowed the bile rising in my throat. Annoying tears were threatening to flow down my face but I wiped them away with a quick hand. _No, he wouldn't have_. _Because _I'm_ the monster_.

We passed by the brick walls with big, bloodied-red letters that read, _**"GO AWAY!" **_and _**"LEAVE IF YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR YOU"**_. Believe it or not, I was going to miss those words.

The silence in the car was tense yet at the same time comfortable. I couldn't find the words to describe such feelings. I stole a glance at Carl to see he had his arms crossed, his cowboy hat obscured most of his face and I felt even more sad. Was he still mad at me? I didn't mean it, I haven't had proper contact with people around my age for so long!

Carl caught me looking at me and I immediately looked down at my fingers as they twiddled with each other.

The car stopped to a sudden halt as the tires screeched. I turned to the right to see the boy step out of the car as he grabbed a bloody orange backpack. I caught a glimpse of a headless body, it guts eaten and ripped apart by _them._

I stared at the item with a grossed expression although Carl and the others didn't seem to notice_. This is what we did now. To survive. _

I began having second thoughts about the prison. What if it was the wrong choice?

_Stop that, thinking like that will only make it worse_, my conscience scolded.

My eyes began to droop as Rick began driving again, his knuckles white whilst he gripped the brown steering wheel tightly. I tried to stay awake, but asleep overcame me as I entered into a dark abyss.

...

"Kierstyn! Wake up!" beckoned a familiar voice as I groggily opened my eyes. Carl continued shaking my shoulders violently. It was frightening to find his face such a close proximity to mine, his big blue eyes searching for my amber ones.

"Carl, can you stop it?! I'm awake!" He sat back down again as I bit back a yawn. He didn't look angry anymore and the blush that was creeping onto his neck and face was proving that even more. I could hear Rick chuckle softly and imagined an amusing smile on his face. Michonne observed us from the front and tried to refrain from laughing. This made my face flare up wildly.

"Sorry," the boy murmured, seeming completely oblivious to the adults' reactions. "We're getting closer to the prison. Just to let you know."

The fun moment was short—lived as the atmosphere turned tense and silent once again. This group seemed pretty serious. But if you really think about, weren't we all like that? It was now what our nature and personalities held and it was a vital part of surviving. If everything seemed fun, I would've put a gun in my mouth a _long_ time ago.

I nodded wearily at Carl's words as I looked to the front of the car. A tiny gasp escaped from my lips as I gazed at the prison in awe.

It certainly was big, the buildings looming over tall. There were at least two guarding towers. But the fence of the entrance to the prison was nearly gone while walkers roamed freely around the huge courtyard full of uncut grass. That didn't exactly scream the idea safe but Rick managed to trek around them. Maybe it was to cause a diversion for the Woodbury army when they attacked? Anyway, Carl, Rick, and Michonne were unfazed and calm as the walkers pounded on the windows while it scared the living day out of me. I wasn't used to seeing a walker so close and still moving. I have grown so used to shooting walkers from roofs and long distance...

The thought of roofs immediately brought me back to King County. And Morgan. A pang of regret and guilt punched me in the gut and I felt my heart being torn into two. One part was here while the other half was where Morgan stayed, as it yelled at me to return.

"You okay?" questioned Carl as I glanced at his blue orbs.

Giving a quick nod and a forced smile I lied, "I'm fine." But I said my next words with conviction. "This prison is amazing! I never thought I would ever be saying that!"

The rarest hint of a smile appeared on Carl's face before he looked back at the prison. I stared too, as I made a little agreement with myself.

I mustn't talk about Morgan. I would now be living in a new place without him. A prison, where ironically it's the safest place on earth. I would meet new people and make new friends, whether if I liked them or not. I would learn to get close with these people and bury my past but to never forget the old, important memories so I won't make the same mistakes twice. Just like prisoners in the better days, they were placed here not only for punishment but for a chance to redeem themselves. So I will start all over again in this new place.

_My new home._

* * *

**A/N: That was a long chapter! Not exactly an action one or my best but it is important! I'll see if I can update tomorrow or Saturday. **

**And yes, just like Kierstyn, I'm proud to say that I'm a Hunger Games nerd fanatic! I did watch the midnight showing with my friend (much to my mother's disappointment) and I do have the DVD, Mockingjay pin, and trilogy (which I read 5 times). I was interested in the books in 2009, before they even began planning the movie! I don't have the Hunger Games t-shirt, though I'll get it soon, and can't wait to watch Catching Fire! :) *screams like a manic fangirl***

**Enough of my craziness fangirl attitude and back to Long Road! What do you guys think? Review please? You guys are spectacular! :D**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I'm here with a new chapter! There's not much to say, because this chapter is where Kierstyn meets the others in Rick's Group! I guess you could say it's a filler, but this little chapter is a reward for all of those who reviewed. I usually update once of week but today's an exception! Enjoy! :)**

* * *

_Chapter 6_

_Long Road_

After Rick was able to get pass the courtyard, two people - a woman and an asian man - opened the fence that led to the prison. Nervous about my appearance, I untied my ponytail and let my hair fall loose, most of it covering my bruised cheek. What will the group think of me? Will they accept me or will I be a sore thumb; the odd one out? I inhaled a deep breath, suddenly feeling hot. _Inhale_..._exhale_..._inhale_..._exhale_..._  
_

Rick seemed to notice my distress and gave me a reassuring smile, saying everything would go well. But even though his blue eyes seemed to speak the truth, his voice had a hint of uncertainty and doubt. This only made me more fidgety as we stepped out of the car.

I immediately stood between by Carl and Rick, feeling a bit safer. I felt a million pair of eyes on me as they noticed I wasn't someone they recognized. A threat. I swallowed a dry lump in my throat as my eyes met the rubbled ground filled with dried blood.

"How'd it go?" asked someone, a female, in a heavy southern drawl. I stole a glance to see a pretty woman with light green eyes and short, brown hair. The brunette noticed my presence but didn't comment. Neither did the others, but they stared at me like I was a foreign alien.

Before Rick could say anything, a man missing a _hand_ stood right in front of me, his cold, steely blue eyes boring into my soul. Instead of having a hand, he wore a weird metal covering with a sharp knife attached to it. I raised my chin high, not wanting to back down the fight but in the end I squirmed under his piercing and intimidating gaze. "Who's this girlie?" he asked loudly in a deep southern accent, bursting my eardrums.

The leader sighed heavily before responding. "We went to King County and tried to find any supplies. We found her with a load of weapons and we negotiated a deal. She would give us the weapons as long as she came with us. She _will_ be staying here; no objections."

Carl, Michonne, and I raised a questioning eyebrow at him. He wasn't exactly saying the whole truth; what about Morgan? Should we not mention him? I thought about it for a second and realized that if we talked about the mad man, it would only frighten the group and raise suspicions about me.

"What's your name?" inquired a woman with doe eyes and short, gray hair. She peered at me cautiously and from a distance. The woman looked so delicate; fragile. I wondered how she was against walkers.

"Kierstyn. Kierstyn Wells." I said, trying to sound confident but failed miserably. There was a small squeak at the end of saying my name. _Yeah Kierstyn, you sound sooo strong_.

"Are you okay?" a small Asain with black hair questioned. He pointed to his cheek and I heeded that he was talking about my bruise.

"Looks like little girlie here has been in a fight." chuckled the redneck with the stump. I backed away and narrowed my eyes. "Did Officer Friendly take a beating out of ya?"

"Merle," scolded Rick, his tone harsh and cold. They stared at each other fiercely and angrily, their eyes pointing daggers. I felt my shoulders tense at the hostility. Something told me that I should be careful with this redneck.

"What?" growled Merle, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "If you handcuff me to a roof then why not punch a little girl?" My eyes burned angrily at him. I maybe be a thirteen year old, but I am _not_ little.

"Merle!" yelled someone from behind. I turned to see another redneck with a crossbow on his back. Was this the crossbow expert Carl talked - or more like gushed - about on our way to the prison? Wasn't his name Daryl or Dixon?

Merle confirmed my assumptions. "Wha' do ya want, Daryl?"

"Lay off! You're scaring the girl!"

Merle scoffed before glaring at the younger redneck. "Huh, you're like a lost puppy, little bro. You Officer's Friendly best friend?! I'll make an appointment for the Spa later." Merle then looked at me and chuckled dryly. "You scared of ol' Merle Dixon? Well, I'll be. Ya should be scared of the person who punched you, not me."

"He didn't punch me," I interjected, my voice thick with anger. "And I'm not scared of assholes like _you_."

Everyone gaped at what I said. Even _I_ gaped at what I said, shocked at the words that spilled naturally out of my mouth. Where did that huge amount of courage come from? _Did I just said what I think I said?_ I questioned mentally. This outburst was a huge mistake, a step back to being a valuable and likable person in this group. Merle Dixon wasn't the only one who needed manners...

Talking like this could crumble my only chance at finding a place in this prison. My cheeks flushed as I dipped my head in embarrassment and shame.

"What did you just say?" Merle pressed venomously, though he knew the answer. His voice was a decibel lower; dangerous and deadly. His eyes were those of a poisonous cobra: steely, cold and glinting with anger. Our faces were inches apart and I felt his heavy, raging breath on me.

"I-I..." I stammered, trying to come up with an apology. But then realization dawned on me. Even though I was ashamed of my words didn't mean I was sorry for them.

Everything happened in a flash. Someone tugged my shirt powerfully as I flew and fell down to the right, my head hitting the cement pavement. With my head ringing, I saw Merle try to lunge at me as he barked angry comments. Daryl restrained him from attacking me by piling on top of the older brother, with his crossbow still in tow. Carl, the person who had saved me earlier before, yanked my arm.

"Get up!" the boy shouted. I tried to but my head ached like crazy and I felt blood dripping down my face. How many times was I going to get injured in _one_ day?

A gunshot echoed in my ears and I covered them with my hands, searching for the shooter. I saw Rick with his pistol raised high in the air, his eyes expressing irritation. All the ruckus calmed down and the only thing I heard were the walkers snarling and rattling the fence. "Everyone get inside. Stop fighting and you—" he pointed at the older and agreesive Dixon brother accusingly, "—I better not hear a word peeping out of your mouth."

Merle smiled cockily at this as he tried to stifle a laugh. Without another word, we headed inside the lengthy and narrow corridors of the prison. I stood beside Carl and covered my head wound and stayed far from the Dixons, as Rick leaded the way. We entered a huge cell (known as Cell Block C) and I gaped at it in awe.

We all stood in what seemed the kitchen (which contained tons of canned foods), were everything was painted a dull gray. Sitting in the table was a teenage blonde cradling a _baby _in her arms while humming a soft lullaby. Across from her was an elderly man with snow white hair and beard gazing at me not with pity but sadness. It all seemed surreal.

My curiosity spiking up, I asked, "Is that girl the mother of the baby?" I only received glares as an answer, Rick's and Carl's being the coldest one of all. I gulped, wishing I could hide in the corner and cry in despair. My first day wasn't going well, was it? Might as well kick me in the arse and feed me to the walkers.

More blood from my head dripped onto my trembling hands. This was not good. Rick seemed to notice this and regained his leader position before giving orders. He pointed at the pretty woman with the green eyes and the Asian. "Maggie, Glenn, keep watch. Daryl, keep your brother in his cell. Just keep quiet Merle! You've caused enough trouble today." the officer yelled at the redneck's snide and snarky comments. Rick then diverted his attention to us once again. "We'll all talk later, after everyone cools down. Kierstyn, go to Hershel - the one sitting by his daughter - and he'll heal you. When you're finished, come with me; I need a word with you."

I nodded stiffly as he and everyone else stormed off to do their orders or activities. I practically ran to where the doctor, Hershel, was and sat by him. Carl joined me and planted himself by the blonde as he caressed the baby, the small human cooing in delight.

Hershel gave me a warm, welcoming smile and despite the exhausting circumstances I've been through today, I couldn't help but return it. He began touching my cheek as I winced in pain. He gave me a handkerchief and I hesitated before taking it; wiping blood and applying pressure to my head wound. "It's okay, I won't hurt you. Name's Hershel, though I suppose Rick already told you that."

I nodded. "Yes, he did. Nice to meet you. I'm Kierstyn. Rick told me you were a doctor."

Hershel's wise, blue eyes held a bit of amusement and chuckled before getting up from his seat. He grabbed his pair of crutches and at first I thought he needed them due to a disability but I watched in surprise as he had one part of his leg _gone_. I bit my lip hard, hoping I wasn't gasping or staring at him rudely. Not wanting to show my shock, I looked at the baby as it rested peacefully in the girl's arms.

Hershel hopped his way to the cabinets and looked for something, presumably medical supplies. "I'm a _veterinarian_, not a doctor."

My eyes widened in even more surprise. Rick lied about Hershel's medical field? I couldn't fathom why he did; maybe it was for reassurance and to convince to join his group? "Well, I um..."

The fragile woman with the doe eyes, someone who I didn't even realize was here laughed softly; the sound of chimes. She was sorting and organizing the food source, probably doing one of her tasks. "Don't worry. He's got lots of experience. Saved Carl from a bullet wound. I'm sure you'll be fine. You seem like a brave girl. Especially for taking a stand against Merle Dixon."

I blushed at her compliment and a small smiled creeped onto my face; she reminded of my passed mother, who would always find the good in people. Even if they were monsters who abandoned their mad yet trustworthy friends, giving them no chance of survival. "Thanks." I replied sheepishly. My attention then scattered to Carl. "Carl got shot?"

Carl turned bright pink before mumbling, "Maybe." He seemed to have taken a great amount of interest in his fingers.

The women smiled fondly at him before returning her look at me. "Carl, you shouldn't be embarrassed. Yeah he got shot, but it was by accident. Mistaken fire, but it hit him in the stomach. He was out for days, but luckily Hershel and his daughters came by."

Hershel smiled, sat next to me again and began cleaning the blood and the wound on my head. He applied a big bandaid on it and said, "You scraped your left temple pretty bad, but it's nothing serious." The man then examined my cheek. "Unfortunately, I really can't do anything about that, though the swelling is going away. I can give you some painkillers if the pain is extreme. Carol, do we have enough of those?"

The woman, who I now knew was Carol, tapped her delicate finger on her chin as she thought about it. "I think we do, I'll get some."

I immediately waved my hand and shook my aching head, dismissing the thought. "No thanks, I don't need any. It barely hurts anymore and I don't wanna use any of your stash."

The blond teenager broke in the conversation. "You're part of the group now, Kierstyn. We care about you."

"Beth is right." agreed Hershel. Carl and Carol nodded in unison. Although I was a bit annoyed at their persistence, a half-crooked smile plastered on my face and gave in; taking those darn painkillers. How could you say no to these people?

...

"You needed me?" I questioned as I walked to Rick, his face looking deep in thought. Under his eyes were gray bags, clearly showing his exhaustion. We were inside one of the catwalks of the prison and you could see the whole view of the courtyard. It was quite beautiful (minus the walkers thrashing against the fence) as the sun began to set and the tree's leaves were slowly turning to an exuberant shade of red and orange. Fall was coming and with that came bitter freezing weather.

Those painkillers eased my pain and I had stopped bleeding the minute Hershel applied that bandaid. He may not be a doctor for humans on a medical perspective but he is for me. The welcoming atmosphere was now a dreary, cold one and I wrapped and rubbed my arms around myself; searching for any source of warmth. Rick nodded at my question.

"Yes, how's your head? The bruise? You met everybody?"

"I'm feeling better though the bruise will take some time to disappear. I met Hershel, Carol, Beth, Judtith, Michonne, Carl and you obviously." I answered and smiled teasingly at him as he returned a tight, tired one. A frown appeared on my face as my brows furrowed in concentration. "But I need to 'officially' meet Maggie and Glenn. They seem like good people. Daryl _seems_ nice but I don't know about his brother..."

Rick glanced at me apologetically before gazing at the walker-filled courtyard. He ran hand through his greasy hair before sighing. "Yeah, I'm sorry about him. Merle doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut."

I shook my head. "I should be the one apologizing to _you_, not him. He doesn't really deserve an apology—" Rick chuckled softly at this, "—but what I did was wrong. I shouldn't have provoked him like that. And I never say or curse things or like that so _please_ forgive me. Don't kick me out of the group."

Rick looked at me incredulously. "What? I won't kick you out. You've helped more than he ever did. Those weapons you gave will be a huge amount of help in winning this war. I think you earned a place in this group. Just be careful with what you say unless you _want_ to get punched by Merle Dixon."

He smiled wearily as I laughed. "Will do. And it may not be much coming from a thirteen year old, but I'll do whatever it takes to bring this 'Governor' down. I'm with you guys all the way. You have my support."

* * *

**A/N: Awww, Kierstyn earned her place in the group. ;) Everything looks like it's going to be okay...for now. Let's just say it's the calm before the storm, hehe. **

**I'm sorry if any of the characters seemed OOC. I didn't like the way I made Merle seem like a jerk. He's one of my favorite characters and I hated the way he died. :'(**

**Review and maybe you'll get quicker updates *hint, hint***


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews, alerts, favorites, etc. It means a lot! Here's a new chapter for you! I'm not very proud of it because no matter how many times I worked and changed it, it still wouldn't turn out to the image I wanted. The beginning is a flashback so yeah..if you don't like the flashback, mention in the reviews and I'll delete that part.**

**And I also have to add that when Rick meets the Governor in "Arrow on the doorpost," he brings two people: Daryl and Hershel. I decided to change that that a bit, and Rick will only bring Daryl instead. I did that because of a reason you shall read later on. Enjoy! **

* * *

_Chapter 7_

_Long Road_

* * *

_"Kierstyn Rose Wells! How many times do I have to tell you to get your butt out of your bed?!" _

_I groaned at my mother's yelling words and rubbed the grime off of my tired eyes. Instead of getting into an upright position, I got more comfortable on my bed, clinging onto the smooth fabric. Just five more minutes..._

_My alarm clock began beeping, the sound irritating me. Screaming into my fluffy pillow, I tried to find the snooze button but the clock ended up falling to the ground as the cheap thing shattered into pieces. Really?!_

_I hear my door open and I lifted my head from my pillow to take a peek. I expected it to be my mother but when I see big dark blue eyes staring at me, I know it's anyone but. Reluctantly, I sat up and narrowed my eyes when my brother was wandering aimlessly around my tiny room, touching my _personal_ items._

_"Ewww, you wear a bra? You don't even have boobs!" he exclaimed, his nose wrinkled in disgust. With angry breaths, I climbed out of my comfy bed and stomped my way over to Kyle as I lunged at him; my nails searching for his hair to yank out._

_"WHY I OUTTA—!"_

_"Ow, ow! MOM, KIERSTYN'S A GORILLA!" screamed my devil-brother at the top of his lungs._

_In a flash, my mom rushed into my room with her eyes nearly bulging out of her sockets. Running in her heels as they clicked and clacked on the floor, she pried me off the annoying rascal. She then pulled me into a tight hug, something she knew I absolutely hated.__  
_

_"Mom...please...hurts..." I choked as her embrace was cutting off my oxygen supply._

_Sighing, she let go of her grasp but squeezed my shoulders hard; her face stern and strict. "I don't have time for this. Quickly apologize to Kyle and get ready to school."_

_"But I'm tired..." I whined. Behind me, I heard Kyle snicker. That boy is going to experience my wrath._

_Mom raised a brow at me, irritation flashing in her usually kind face. "Really? Stop acting like a five year old and get ready."_

_I mumbled incoherent things at her but obliged and unwillingly apologized to Kyle. His answer, you ask?_

_"Whatever," he muttered before sticking his nasty tongue out at me. "It's the last day of school, so I'll let this slide." Giving me a devilish smile and a mischievous glint into those seemingly innocent eyes, he trotted downstairs for breakfast. _

_Rolling my eyes, I headed to my dresser and saw myself in the mirror. My straight auburn hair looked like a beehive's nest. Grabbing my brush, I unknotted the millions of tangles in it. This was going to take a while._

* * *

I awoke with a start, confused by everything. As I looked at my surroundings, (the prison bed I slept in, the gray wall) all the events I did came plummeting down on me as if I was doused with ice cold water. I was no longer in the sinfully comfortable bed where I used to call home. I was in this prison for nearly a month, still fighting off walkers as we anxiously waited for the Governor to arrive with his army. All I had of my past were memories and dreams; the slowly fading images of my family still lingering in my mind.

Wanting to escape this hell, I collapsed my head on the rough pillow as I drifted off to sleep. Only for a few more minutes...

* * *

_The school bell rang loudly against my ears while I walked with my books as they hugged my chest. Right next to me was bubbly blonde Megan. Also known as my best friend. She was the nicest person you could ever meet. When you talked to her, she made it seem like you were the most important person in the world. I didn't deserve a friend like her but her she was, beside me as she excitedly chatted about the last day of school; planning for all the things we were going to do once we were 'free'. I grinned forcefully at her and oohed and ahhed at the right moments although I wasn't really paying attention, my mind wandering into other places._

_"So, what do you think?" _

_"Sure, that seems like a good idea," I muttered._

_Her purple braces began to fade as she frowned, suspicion and worry clouding her chocolate brown eyes. "What's wrong? You wanna talk?"_

_"'Bout what?" I huffed angrily but my yawning gave it away. Megan smirked as she quirked a blonde eyebrow at me._

_"You tired again?" _

_We continued walking down the hallway full of kids as we tried to reach History, which was the only class we had together. A boy purposely stuck his foot out so I can trip over. His measly goal triumphed as I fell face first on the white clean floors, my books scattered amongst the ground._

_Angry and grumpy I gave him 'the finger' as the boy and his group of friends sniggered. Megan helped me collect my books as we ran to class. Before I could open the door to Mr. Peterson's History period, she flipped me around and looked at me warily. "We need to talk _now_. Where is my Kierstyn and what have you done to her? That middle finger thing was totally uncalled for."_

_I sighed in defeat. If you looked at Megan's eyes, you were cornered and she would never stop pestering you unless you told her a satisfying answer. "My parents...they were fighting again last night. Mom's worried about my grandma since she's got the flu. This really bad one and she wants to take her to the hospital."_

_"Yeah, isn't that going around now? I remember seeing it in the news," she recalled, her face deep in thought._

_"Yup, and she was coughing up blood last night. Dad thinks we should wait for a bit but mom thinks it's a bad idea. I couldn't even sleep with all that yelling. I bet you Kyle couldn't either."_

_We both shook our heads. Megan, wanting to toss away this bad conversation, smiled brightly at me. "Cheer up! It's the last day of school! We don't have to wake up early."_

_"Yeah and that gives me more time to hear my parents argue."_

_Megan narrowed her eyes at me. "Stop thinking about that," she scolded. "How about after school. You goin' to Emily's party?!"_

_I smiled sadly whilst I shook my head. "Wasn't invited. I'm not as likable as you Megan. Remember?"_

_Before Megan could say anything else, the class door opened as we saw a bald Mr. Peterson tapping his foot impatiently, his arms crossed over his chest and his flabby belly. Not the attractive teachers you see in TV shows. "You girls care to attend the class? Just because it's the last day doesn't mean you can fool around."_

_"Sorry, sir." we chimed as we both entered the room, Megan red-faced as she sat in her seat, right in the front. Giggles erupted everywhere while I dragged myself to the back of the classroom. What was so funny? I swear, our classmates will laugh at anything._

_Sitting in my seat, I stared out the clear window; bored to death. The teacher yapped on about how we were such a good class and how he was going to miss us. Blah, blah, blah..._

_Looking at the cloudless blue sky outside, I slumped in my chair; resting my head on the desk. I saw the playground and how empty it was. Seems like nobody had gym first period. It looked so perfect today and we were sitting in class, wasting away precious time. I could see Janitor O' Brien walking around in circles outside the playground. Strange enough, the janitor then turned his head to our classroom window as he slowly _limped_ his way towards us.__ As he got closer, I squinted to notice a huge, red wound on his arm. What the...?_

_I rubbed my eyes and bit back a yawn. I was tired, that had to be it. In fact, I could literally fall asleep. The offer was so inviting that my eyes began to droop._

_Then in a few minutes, everything changed. The loud speaker turned on, the words crackling into our room._

"State Emergency. Code Red. I repeat, we are in a state emergency. Lockdown now in session."

_Screaming then echoed from other rooms and students began to panic. Megan's eyes met mine, confusion in hers while mine possessed fear. I heard a thump coming from the window. As everyone turned their heads to the direction of the window, I noticed Janitor O' Brien's hand desperately banging his hands against the glass. His eyes...they were a frightening bright yellow and he was a sickly pale. Loud...snarls...could be heard as they emitted from his chest. Some of the students screamed as he banged his head, his mouth and teeth visible. His eyes, they looked...hungry. Was he sick or something? Did he need help?_

Thump_, _thump_, _thump_. More screams, more crying. I heard someone shout my name._

_I found myself on the floor as I stared at the once kind Janitor in fear. My bottom lip quivered as tears streamed down my face. I was confused, frightened. Sad. I felt like screaming though nothing came out. He seemed like a monster; a ravenous animal. Where was the man who would give us chocolates on Valentine's Day or help us make up an excuse when we were late for class? Where was his kindred and positive personality? This couldn't be...it _wasn't_...him. It just couldn't. A question kept popping into my head like a broken record. _

_What was going on?_

_Suddenly, the sprinklers on the ceiling turned on as we were pelted with icy cold water. The teacher tried to calm us down but some were already bolting out the door, others were glued to their chairs or sobbed, while others who had phones on them called their parents. Loud crying and yelling could be heard. It's scary how a society could collapse so quickly. No matter how organized, how perfect, how prepared you are; you'll always meet the same fate:_

_Hell was about to break loose._

* * *

I immediately stood up and climbed out of my bed, my stomach churning not from hunger but from misery. That was a real nightmare that I always woke up with tears streaking down my face. But as I felt my face, there wasn't anything wet. Had I overcome this...memory that haunted me every time I feel asleep?

Shaking my head, I got ready for the day. I should stop being so dramatic and over thinking this. It was just a bad memory. What I needed to do was focus on _today_. Surely Rick would give everybody tasks after breakfast.

Heading downstairs, I saw mostly everybody eating porridge. A smiling Carol gave me a bowl as I sat next to Beth, who was feeding a bottle of milk to Judith.

"Ain't she adorable?" she asked, a fond grin brightening on her face.

I nodded as I took a huge spoonful of my food. Boy, was I starving. "Babies are always cute." _Too bad she'll have to grow up in a world like this. _

Rick sauntered his way to the middle of the room. Clearing his throat to catch everyone's attention, we all looked up; me a but more grumpily since I was interrupted from my eating. Instead of greeting us, he got straight to the point. "Today, I want to do things a bit differently. Maggie and Glenn will check the fence for any holes or anything loose. After that, I want them and Michonne to take out some walkers in the courtyard. Not every single walker. Daryl, you keep watch. That's all for now." Then he left as everybody continued on eating.

My spoon almost clattered to the ground after he finished. Would I be able to get to do _anything_? I wanted to help as much as I can. They always left the minors doing nothing. Nada. Zilch. I wasn't just going to sit here and not contribute. When I was with the mad-man-who-should-not-be-named in King County, all I did was work; scavenging items, killing and hauling walkers, things that kept me _busy_.

As I finished, I frantically searched for Rick and found him on the catwalks as I recently discovered was his favorite spot. The officer didn't even notice me, his hawk eyes focused on the view of the perimeter and his long fingers curling around the catwalk fence in a vice-like grip.

"Rick?" I asked, rather loudly while he startled and jumped, snapping back into reality.

I crossed my arms as I looked straight into his orbs, learning that they were darker than Carl's. The boy's eyes were a much prettier and brighter shade. Wait, _what_? I'm I actually wondering about Carl's _eyes_ at this moment?

Shaking my head furiously, I said, "Look, I don't know how to say this without sounding like a brat but I'm saying it anyway. I need to do a task, a job, whatever you call it. Like Glenn or Daryl's. I bored just sitting on my butt doing nothing and I'm just...not used to it. I don't even care if it's the crappiest: just give me something to _do_."

Rick sighed, just as I expected, and mulled the thought over with his lips set in a straight line. Even if he turned me down, I wasn't giving to give up.

"Carl'll want one—"

"Then give him one too," I interrupted hastily then continued slowly, as if talking to a baby. "When I said I'll help I seriously meant it. We aren't little or big. Smart or strong. We are people, and that's all there is. And our only priority is to _survive_. Survive in this hellish world we call home."

Rick's face etched shock, probably surprised at my little speech. We stared at each other down for who knows how long before his gaze broke from mine. While I tapped my foot impatiently and was about to storm off, Rick's eyes turned to the size of golfballs as he whispered one word.

"Lori."

I tried to find what he was looking at, but only found the courtyard. Was I oblivious to something?

"Lori, I'm sorry. Please," he pleaded out desperately, his face contorted in pain and misery. I waved my hand in front of his face though it was as if I wasn't even there. Invisible. I called out his name but received no response. I peered at the courtyard once again but found no one. Who the hell was Lori?

Suddenly, he grabbed the rifle that was next to him and left. Just like that. I huffed angrily and went to find a certain hunter.

...

"Rick said ya' can do this?" questioned Daryl, quirking a suspicious eyebrow.

"Yeah," I lied, but avoided his piercing gaze. Lying was never my thing and he saw right through it. But the hunter didn't comment, which I was grateful that he wasn't much for talking. After a long moment of serene silence, Daryl taught me some basics of 'watching'. And for a long time I felt distracted from my troubles; content. I was even that happy that I began humming a nameless tune.

"How come Carl ain't here?" he brought up and I cursed in my head for not thinking of an excuse. Or I could've invited him to join us. I thought Daryl was those lone wolf types...

I ended up shrugging and looked through the binoculars and spotted Maggie, Glenn, and Michonne exiting the courtyard after they killed a numerous amount of walkers.

I heard Daryl sigh. "You're a pain," he grunted and I snorted at this.

"You aren't exactly tolerable either."

Daryl simply chewed on his thumbnail after another pause of silence passed by. "...I practically know everythin' 'bout ya'. Your favorite color is green, but ya' like a forest green type, not those neon ones. Ya' rather have a book up your nose instead of meeting new people. You're thirteen and like that stupid copy of me, Katniss Neverdeen."

I raised a brow as a smug grin curled onto my lips. I even ignored his rude insult of Katniss _Everdeen_, not Neverdeen. "Stalker much?"

He snorted. "Hell no." But he wore a knowing smirk, a small smirk that began creeping me out as I slowly took a step back. "Carl's your stalker."

I wavered from his staring and looked at the binoculars again, gazing at the roaming walkers. "W-what?" I finally mustered.

"Yup, knows everythin' about ya'. But believe it or not, he's better than before all this shit went down. Kid's been through hell and back."

To be honest, I didn't know what to say. The serene atmosphere instantly transformed into an awkward one. I said in a playful tone, "Well tough guy, do you know that he talks about you _all day_? Know how hard it is to live with that? And you hate Katniss? How dare you—you know she's a better archer than you?"

Daryl chuckled dryly as he felt the rough surface of one of his crossbow's bolt. "In her dreams. I could shove this right up her ass. She's some wimp. Especially Peeta and that boy with the trident. Name's Finnick, I think."

I smirked at this discovery and decided to defeat him at his own game. "How do you know about Finnick, Daryl?"

"What, ya' don't think I didn't hear you crazy girls obsess over that first movie? 'May the fuckin' odds be in our favor!'" he mocked as I laughed. "What's so funny?"

"But Finnick was never in the first movie. You would only know him if you read the books." I smirked at him as he glared at me. Finally, he gave in.

He ran his hand over his greasy, dark brown hair. "I _may_ have read the books. Didn't mean I liked them."

I mentally high-fived myself as I grinned victoriously. "Hah! I knew it! So, which was your favorite? Book, chara—"

"Calm down girl, I only read the first and second. It sounded like some stupid love-ass triangle. Another twilight, this time she has a bow an' arrow. Then I stopped. Stop lookin' at me like that."

But I couldn't stop smiling and giggling. "Wow, _the_ bad-ass, motorcycle driving, crossbow expert Daryl Dixon actually liked the _Hunger Games_. A true day in history."

"Shut up," he growled, but his tone was playful. I never imagined a redneck enjoying _reading_ a book. That's what stereotypes did; made you judge a book by its cover. Maybe other rednecks were smart like him. Maybe _Merle_ was like him.

"Don't suppose Merle likes Katniss," I muttered. "That stupid ass—"

"Hey watch your language," warned the younger Dixon as he narrowed his eyes angrily. "Yeah, he can be annoying but he's my brother and that's that."

I didn't dare to continue, or else I would have a bolt right through my head so I kept quiet while the eerie atmosphere clouded between us once again. Doing the task I was supposed to do, I saw through the scope of my binoculars a _person_. Not just a walker; a woman who had a blond ponytail. She had some sort of metal restraint...as it held the walker in front of her. None of the other walkers even seemed to notice her. Maybe it was the smell?

"I've finally gone crazy," I murmured as Daryl asked me why. "Well, I see some woman walking around the courtyard and she's not a meal yet."

Daryl snatched the binoculars from me as he too saw the female. "Oh shit."

"What?" I pressed, confused. "Do you know her?"

"An old friend," he muttered darkly as he left the guard tower, me following hot on his trail.

...

"Andrea, get in." Rick demanded, the traces of how I saw him last time now long gone. He was in police mode, if you can say that, and would get what he wants.

The woman (named Andrea), who surprisingly seemed more healthy and clean than us, shook her head. "Not necessary. I'm here on the Governor's behalf to offer a truce."

I crossed my arms and stood besides Carl while we both exchanged tight smiles before listening intently to the conversation. What was the truce she was talking about?

"The why ain't your boyfriend here?" hissed Daryl, his voice filled with a combination of venom and ice.

The woman sighed before cocking her hip and placing a hand on it."He knew that if he came, the war would commence. I'm just here to send his message to everyone." she smiled a bit too warmly for my taste. "The Governor thinks that we should discuss matters, not go in a death battle. We don't need any more deaths. We can avoid this and become...friends. This afternoon, Rick and one other person can go to the mill and you can talk things out with the Governor."

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at this. We can _avoid_ this? Rick told me otherwise. I began to proceed next to Rick and his second-hand man, Daryl, but I felt someone tug me. I looked back at Carl as he squeezed my hand and shook his head. For a moment, my eyes softened and wondered if I should heed my friend's advice. His blue eyes were convincing...

Scoffing inwardly, I squeezed his hand back but went to his father. Suddenly, all the bottle-up anger spilled out. "You said that this was was inevitable. I didn't hear truce in the little speech you gave me."

"Is that what he said?" tsked Andrea and began talking to me as if we were friends since forever. "Well, sweetie, he's lying."

Rick and everybody else said nothing. I glared at him. I felt...betrayed. It was even more powerful than anger and punched me right in the gut. It hurt; I thought I could _trust_ him.

"So all you're going to do is kill?" I said slowly, frustration rising in my voice. No answer. "Well, someone answer me!"

"We didn't—"

"If you didn't know, than why did you ask for all the goddamn weapons? Why I'm I even here? Just some pawn in your chess set?!" I fumed, feeling my cheeks flush with irritation and anger. "I left Morgan for you! His life went in _vain_!" Feeling tears forming in my eyes and threatening to fall down, I quickly stalked off to my cell; everyone gaping at me.

I ended up with my head hitting against the pillow. So much for covering everything about Morgan. The cat's out of the bag. Now everyone will question _who_ Morgan is, and they'll probably lose trust in me. Just like I did with Rick. Does he want people, _his_ people, to die in a pointless bloodbath? Walkers were a huge problem, but they were nothing compared to heartless humans with deadly machinery and weapons. A huge realization dawned on me as I dug deeper into this.

_We were the walkers also. Heartless beings that killed, murdered others; it was a part of our nature. And although we were oblivious to it, we were _always_ walkers; dead people who have always inherited the earth. Before this apocalypse even happened._

I heard light footsteps and saw a shadow of the figure by my cell, as if hesitant to enter. This only made me feel more drained as I guessed who it was and hugged the pillow closer to my chest. "Rick, leave me alone. I need time just for myself."

"Not even if it was me?" asked a familiar voice as Carl stepped out of the shadows. The way he said it was playful, but his blue orbs flashed with anger. And disappointment.

"Yes, even if it was you. Why are you here?" As if he owned the place, he shrugged and plopped onto my bed as he got a bit _too_ comfortable. His head rested against the wall as he replied, "To talk."

I looked at him with irritation as I rolled my eyes. "Way to choose a perfect time _to talk,_" I responded hotly. He only smirked at my attitude. But his eyes still possessed that anger. "Carl—"

"You didn't have to talk like that. Especially not in front of everyone." he said in a creepy, calm tone. I grimaced at how soft it sounded, but it was filled with enough bitterness to know I wasn't his favorite person right now. I would rather have him yelling at me then to talk like this.

"You know why I did," I defended defiantly as my eyes narrowed.

"He didn't know. You think he wants a war? He already has enough to deal with," he countered.

"You weren't there—"

"Where, because I sure as hell probably was." His stony-face glared at me. The boy that Daryl mentioned earlier was not there; hidden somewhere.

"Back at King County. Your leader, _your_ _father_, told me that he couldn't do anything to prevent the fight against Woodbury. Said they were sick people, but all I see is a blonde woman who seems pretty nice to me!"

"You don't know her. What we've all been through. You've just been here a month, and you think you know every little thing but you don't. There's still dark secrets that you'll probably never know." Silence passed by as I took in the hurtful words. He was right; I was acting like a selfish brat who thought she knew everything.

"Well, I've been through a lot, too," I muttered while I folded my arms stubbornly.

Carl chuckled humorlessly. He looked at me with a pitiful expression before shaking his cowboy-hat head. "I bet what you call tough is what I call lucky."

"What do you mean?" I asked cautiously, looking at the blue-eyed boy with concern. My anger towards him was now long gone, and his anger was dispelled also. His eyebrows were furrowed, deep in thought. I shook his shoulders violently but he was still captured in his trance. After a few minutes, Carl's eyes met mine, though they were void of life.

"Do you remember when you asked me about my mom?" he asked, his voice suddenly sullen.

I squinted my eyes, remembering the first day when I was in the prison. My mind brought me back to the vague memories of seeing Beth cradling a small creature, a baby, in her arms; lulling it to sleep as she softly hummed a lullaby. I, being the nosy person I was, asked where the mother was but was met only with silence and a glare from Rick.

I nodded at Carl, perplexed by his question but ushered him to continue. He inhaled a deep breath. "Well, Lori died during childbirth."

My eyes widened a bit, aghast by the fact he called his own mother by her first name. And that was the name Rick whispered at the catwalk. Lori was gone. Lori _was_ Rick's wife and Carl's and Judith's mother. I was frightened at how empty he sounded; so dead that he can easily pass for the walking corpses outside the courtyard of the prison. A long awkward silence passed by as I was at a loss for words. Carl looked at me intently, waiting for an answer.

"...I-I'm sorry?" was the only thing I could muster while I looked at him with confused eyes. The boy only shook his head and laughed darkly, probably expecting my reaction.

"Don't be. I shot her in the end, after she 'died'," he stated matter-of-factly, as if shooting your own mother was something common now a day.

We stared at each other for a moment, his face hollow whilst mine was of pure mixed emotions. Thinking about it, I reached over and grabbed his pale hand before squeezing it. But his eyes were still fixated on mine and I slowly let go.

Licking my lips, I hesitated, wondering if I should tell him my secret—something I never even told Duane or Morgan. Because to be honest? I had it as tough as him. Minutes passed by as it slowly turned into a hour. I wanted to show him that I understood him to some extent and to get rid of this tense, strange moment. Plus, I needed to tell someone, so why not now? I ran my fingers through my long hair and inhaled. "On the first days of the outbreak, my brother got bit." I started, my voice barely audible. I refused to met Carl's gaze as I stared at my twiddling fingers, feeling numb.

"He was annoying, especially for an eight-year old. Sometimes I waned to strangle him. Kyle was the favorite. Got everything he wanted while I clawed my way to earn stuff. My parents were infatuated with him, spoiling him with gifts and love..." I trailed off, realizing I wasn't getting to where I wanted.

I cleared my throat and continued. "We were at a motel, hoping for things to clear out in Atlanta. That's where I lived, in a small but decent apartment. My mom and dad were going to a gas station to get some fuel so I had to take care of the little devil. While me and Kyle were outside, a woman approached us. She instantly bit him in the neck, taking a good chomp. Not wanting to get in trouble and completely petrified, I hid him in our motel room, locking the doors tight.

"He would cry, 'It hurt, it hurts, it hurts,' over and over again. Kyle turned as pale as a ghost and had a bad burnin' fever. Mom and dad weren't back yet and Kyle, saying he was tired; went to sleep. When he woke up, he pounced on me and I screamed." I noticed I was speaking rapidly, my words spilling from my mouth effortlessly.

"Red. Red, _red_. It was all I saw." _Just like Morgan_, I added in my head before scoffing and starting again. "His eyes were a strange yellow and he smelled like death; his growls not...human. Grabbing a thing closest to me, I bashed him in the head with a lamp. One hit. Two hits. Three. Four. Five. Six. I had to hit him _six_ times. Six times..."

Carl peered at me before nodding, an expression of empathy on his face. He reached out his hand, his palm outwards as if to hold my hand, but I rushed over him and hugged him as my head gently touched his chest. Surprisingly, he hugged back, stroking my hair softly. Minutes ticked by and he then broke away and sauntered out of my cell, joining the others. I expected tears on my face, though none came. The way I told my story was exactly like Carl's; lifeless and void of any care.

Suddenly, my head started pounding and I rubbed my temples, hoping the excruciating pain will go away. I gritted my teeth so hard that it sounded like a chainsaw. My brother's last words replayed in my head.

_"It hurt, it hurts, it hurts."_

I shook my head and covered my face with a pillow, muffling my screams. Mom's voice exploded in my head, the image of my mother's horrified expression tainting my mind.

_"Kierstyn! What did you do to my b-baby?!"_ My face contorted in frustration, wanting these memories to disappear. To end once in for all.

The worst one was dad. He spoke no words, but he didn't have to. His face said it all. When he saw a mangled, bloody Kyle on the motel floor, he looked at it with a petrified face; stricken at the reality of it. Dad turned his attention to me, terror in his face, anger glinting in his eyes. From there, the little relationship I had with my parents began to crumble.

But no tears came. _Not even a single drop._

I got up from my bed, walking to the mirror across the room. Although there were some cracks and dirt and dried blood splattered over it, I could still see my reflection. It stared at me with crazed brown eyes, the expression unreadable. Some strands of auburn hair stuck to her face as sweat trickled down the sides. She was a monster.

_I_ was a monster.

A sudden rush of anger overcame me as I punched the mirror, the glass shattering everywhere as it cut my hand. I fell to my knees and looked at my knuckles, cuts everywhere and blood oozed out. The blood just flowed as I stared at my injured hand, not bothering to get up or call for help. It was red.

_Red, red, red._

"Kierstyn?" someone cried, a female voice; her southern drawl thick and heavy. I titled my head slightly to the left to catch a glimpse of Maggie, her emerald eyes staring at me in shock.

"Oh God...Kier, what the hell happened?" she asked incredulously. Maggie rushed over to me as she gently touched my hand. I didn't even wince at the pain.

"I punched the mirror," I stated bluntly. Maggie's hands were now covered in my blood, her face masked with terror. She shook her head as she beckoned for a person. "Carl, get over here!"

The boy quickly ran to us and Maggie ordered him to watch me. He reluctantly complied as he took a glance at my cut. Crossing his arms, he relaxed against the walls; his eyes searching intensely from my blank expression, his lips set in a tight straight line

"Let me get dad," Maggie said. The young woman gave me a glare that warned, 'Don't you dare move'.

I wasn't planning to anyway...

...

We sat on the table by the kitchen as the veterinarian swiftly moved his fingers to mend my injury. Herschel sent me a glance before wiping my cut with water and rubbing alcohol. He managed to stop the blood and was getting ready to stitch my cut. Apparently, the glass had done more damage than intended. "You mind telling me what happened?"

I sucked in a deep breath. "I fell down," I lied, telling the worst fib ever.

A frown marked his face as he looked at me with disapproval. Lying wasn't something in Hershel's book. His brows furrowed as he concentrated stitching the wound. Time passed by before he spoke again. "Maggie told me otherwise."

I winced as he finished stitching me up and began rolling the gauze around my hand. It stung like crazy and I bit the inside of my cheek hard until I tasted the metallic, bitter taste of blood in my mouth. "Well, Maggie wasn't there to witness," I shot back, as my venomous words made Hershel grimace.

He sighed and looked at me with thoughtful blue eyes. They anxiously implored my face for answers but came up with nothing from my stoic expression. Hershel gingerly placed a soft hand on my shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You're not alone Kierstyn. I'm here if you need me."

I bit my bottom lip and for a moment, I wanted to tell him everything. From my buried secrets to my opinions on this war we were entering against Woodbury. Maybe I could lean on him for support and Hershel could offer me pieces of wisdom and advice. This man cared about everyone, especially his family.

As my words were going to slip from my mouth, I shook my head. _Not now_, I chided in my head.

"Should I get rest or something?" I concluded, not wanting to cause any more drama. We had enough of that for one day.

Hershel looked at me, as he seemed genuinely disappointed. "Try not to use that hand as much. You can sleep and Beth'll wake you up for food."

I gave a forced tight smile before nodding. "Thanks. For everything."

"Just please be careful," sighed the man.

Before I could say anything, Merle strolled by with his arms folded; a mischievous grin on his face. "Awwww, did the little sweet pea get a booboo?" teased the older redneck as I gritted my teeth. I hoped Daryl was here to shush him but I remembered he was probably with Rick to go talk things out with the Governor. Or so I hoped.

"Why do you care?" I hissed at him.

"Why, we gotta make sure the little princess is okay!" Ignoring his rude remarks, I scoffed and headed to the only place where I could think and relax.

My cell.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Before you go on and read this chapter, I want to thank everyone for reading, favoriting, alerting this story etc. 70 reviews, WOW! You guys are simply the best! And a special thanks to Plania for drawing the cover of this fic! If your story needs a good cover, he's your person! Onto chapter 8...which is a Carl fluff one. :3**

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_Chapter 8_

_Long Road_

Snarls and gunshots. That was all I heard as I stabbed a walker right between its eyes. I felt my blood pumping with adrenaline as sweat trickled down my face although it was at least twenty degree in this bitter weather. My breathing escalated while my heart hammered against my chest. I wrapped the thick denim jacket I wore tighter as I sucked in a deep breath. Turning around, I see another walker too close for comfort. Kicking it, the thing falls down as I stomped its head numerous of times with my foot.

Suddenly, a huge weight is on top of me as I collapse onto the ground; my knife flying out of my hands as it skids across the pavement. I thrashed around as I felt the walker breathing heavily down my neck, the horrid sounds of its growls ringing in my ears. Using all of my energy, I managed to turn around as I'm greeted by the unwelcoming sight of the decaying face. I did the only thing I _could_ do. I screamed.

A bullet penetrated through the walker's skull while its putrid blood splatters across my face. Taking a much needed breath to calm myself, I lifted off the dead wieght and get up as fast as I can; still reminded of the few walkers still around us. I grabbed the knife off the floor and locked my eyes with his piercing blue ones.

"Thanks Carl," I said briskly before running off to kill the walkers by us.

I spotted Glenn and Maggie carrying the items we needed. Michonne was behind, swiftly slicing the walker's head with her prized katana. "Let's go!" shouted the Korean as we raced to the Hyundai. I quickly entered the backseat with Carl and Michonne while Maggie gave us most of the items. Glenn started the engine as it roared to life. He slammed his foot against the pedal and with that we were off, the walkers becoming a speck as we drove closer to the prison.

Carl gave me a linen cloth and I wiped the dried blood off my face, feeling somewhat cleaner. Hesitating for a moment, I turned to the boy and gently wiped off some of the smeared grime on his cheeks; his freckles becoming more visible. We just stared at each other, his face flushing a dark red as I felt a small blush creeping onto my cheeks. Michonne was the only adult who noticed this as she coughed rather loudly to hide her laughter. I mumbled a few incoherent things and folded my arms while looking out the window.

"How much did we get?" asked Maggie, who was still breathless. "I didn't really count while I was collecting."

Carl and I looked at the supplies, which were very few. Some baby formula, one or two canned food and granola bars. This supply run wasn't our best, and that walker infested town didn't help.

"We'll manage," Carl said.

"There's no point in sugar coating it. We barely have anything," I added grimly, a frown tugging at my lips.

Glenn's grip on the steering wheel tightened as his knuckles turned white. A groan escaped from his lips. "These supply runs are too damn dangerous!"

"Isn't everything dangerous?" responded Michonne sarcastically as I tried to stifle a laugh. Carl looked like he was about to knock both of our heads together and Glenn glared at us through the rearview mirror.

"My point is," continued Glenn, "we have to stop going to the nearest town. We pretty much took everything and now there's nothing. And there's _millions_ of walkers lurking there."

Maggie shook her head. "Ya' know why we can't go any farther than that little town."

She was right; our supply runs were only to the closest towns because of the anticipated war with the Governor. He and his army could come any day now and we needed to stay even more together in the small group we're in. Taking supply runs wasn't going to help as that only separated members, so we made the journeys short. Just in case there was any danger and we could head more quickly to the prison.

"We have to take at least one long supply run."

"Then talk to Rick about it. But you're on your own this time." Maggie folded her arms stubbornly. I gazed at them strangely since this was really the first time I've seen them fight. Or the first time in public.

The rest of drive was met with silence - a silence I have grown used to - as everyone wallowed in their thoughts.

...

We enter the prison with a grim looking Hershel and Rick. A week after my outburst, we have managed to keep a 'stable' relationship, which means talking or looking at each other when necessary. To be honest, I don't know if I can trust him or not. He may be the group's leader, but he isn't mine.

Rick constantly averted his gaze from Michonne, which only raised suspicion inside of me. Michonne seemed to notice it also, and her shoulders tensed slightly. What was going on between them? I felt someone nudge my arm and found Beth and Carl besides me, carrying the few items we had.

"C'mon," beckoned the older girl as she flashed a grin. "Both of you gotta take care of Judy."

After we organized the items in the cells, I found myself carrying the small and precious baby in my arms. It had the same brilliant blue eyes as Carl's and I smiled faintly as Judith cooed at me. Her tiny hand wrapped around my pale finger and I began to rock back and forth while I softly hummed a lullaby.

Beth and Carl watched me with mesmerized looks. At first, I ignored it but then I started to get irritated because it was clear they were _staring_ at me. "What?" I asked a bit too harshly. Judith's drooping eyes then opened instantly and the infant began to cry loudly. The two teenagers began to laugh as I scowled at them.

"What's so funny?" I pressed, feeling annoyance boil inside of me.

Carl's shoulders shook from laughter while Beth covered her mouth from the erupting giggles. "I knew you can't take care of a baby. You don't have the patience," answered Carl. I narrowed my eyes at this.

"Like you can do any better, hotshot." Carl shrugged and his smirk only broadened at this. I wanted to slap that smug little smile off his face...

I saw Carol rush by me, her big doe eyes masked with worry and fear. Quickly, she gently took Judith from my grasp and scowled at me. Ever since she heard of the incident of my punching the mirror in my cell, Carol was cautious and always frowned at me in disapproval. "Be careful!" she harshly whispered as the baby still continued wailing. Shaking her head, she headed to her cell; trying to calm Judith down.

For some stupid reason, Carl and Beth found this amusing as they continued laughing like hysterical hyenas. A few tears of joy flowed down their cheeks as I rolled my eyes at them. "I need to get new friends."

"Good luck with that," commented Carl as they both started to relax, "We're the only people here who are your age."

Although he meant it as a joke, I felt a frown tug at my lips. Beth noticed this and titled her head slightly. She then smacked Carl's head, to which the boy said ow and began casting an angry glance at her as he rubbed his head. "Carl! Be nice!"

I shook my head and kept my gaze at the floor. "No, it's okay. It's just that...he's right. Shoot, we're probably the only kids left in this world..." My mind wandered to Duane and my brother. My old friends and classmates. To every kid who I once knew.

"Don't be so dramatic," muttered the boy, but he also frowned as the depressing idea dawned on him. Beth's eyes widened at the discovery and refused to meet my or Carl's gaze.

"Excuse me," Beth uttered out as she briskly went to her cell, her blonde ponytail bobbing left to right. I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed before slumping down on the gray wall behind me.

"Great, I just had to ruin the day."

"I'm sure you didn't mean it," Carl said softly as he sat next to me. He shrugged and continued, "She's just a little sensitive, that's all." I snorted and buried my head between my legs. We just sat there, the silence quite comforting as I delved deep inside my thoughts. Was my idea true; were we the few teenagers left? Why did we have to be in this hellish world while others weren't? What made us so damn special? Duane was way better and worthy than me so why did he die while I'm still standing here, breathing and _living_?

I heard the dragging of footsteps and looked up to see the younger Dixon stroll into the room, his crossbow strapped tightly against the back. "Any of ya see Merle?"

I shrugged. "Beats me. We don't exactly get along."

He grunted at this; his patience was running thin with my snarky comments. "That a yes or no?"

"No," Carl quickly replied, glancing at me to shut up. With that short answer, Daryl left to continue on his search for his brother. Minutes turned to hours as me and Carl played go fish. Not the best thing to do in such dire times, but we were bored thirteen year old kids. Carl was winning and I started getting annoyed, again. It then occurred to me that practically everybody was gone. If the Governor were to walk in any minute with his army, we'd be dead in a matter of seconds. "Carl?"

"Yeah?"

"Where is everyone?"

It took a moment for him to answer that as he licked his lips - just like his father - and took off his cowboy hat to scratch his head. "Well, Carol's with Judith, Beth is in her cell, Maggie and Glenn are probably making out (my face scrunched a bit in disgust as Carl smiled cheekily at me), and Daryl went to find Merle. Hershel said he was sleeping earlier. Hmph, where's my dad and Michonne?"

My eyes widened when I thought of the earlier 'encounter' with the two. No, it can't be. Were they..._dating_? It may seem immature, but I stuck my tongue out as I mulled it over. "Oh, Carl. I don't know how to say this but—"

Someone else walked in and my eyes were nearly at the edge of falling out of my eye sockets. It was the officer, but Michonne was not there. His face looked stricken as he ran a nervous hand over his hair. He glanced at us and sighed as he approached us. "Tell everyone to go outside and meet me by the entrance to the prison. We're having a little meeting."

I blinked owlishly as Rick left to who knows where. Was I the only one who had nothing to do? Carl neatly piled the cards and stood up. "Guess we have a job to do."

Shaking my head, I laughed; the sound coming out like a desperate plea of hysteria. "I swear this is the weirdest day. Ever."

Carl smiled at me, his blue eyes dancing with mirth. "Tell me about it."

...

The first person we found was Beth, who was - not surprisingly - singing in her cell. She had a whole journal of songs she written and was testing out her vocals. After we convinced her to come with us, we went to find her dad. I decided to attempt small talk with her, a way of apologizing her from the earlier depressing incident. "Beth, you like singing right?"

Her eyes lit up so brightly that they could illuminate the whole narrow hallway of the corridors we were walking in. "More like love."

I wore a little crooked smile as I glanced at Carl who was now slowing down his walking pace to listen to the conversation. "Ever wanted to be a singer?"

"I was just a country girl who wanted to be a country singer before all of _this._" She sighed as she adjusted the purple hat she wore. Her eyes then turned wistful as her face expressed nostalgia. "I even wanted to be in those singing shows. Become someone famous...be a person everyone loved."

I smiled sadly at her before nodding. Many people had the same dreams as her. Yet they never got to accomplish it. "Well, believe it or not, I think you're a wonderful singer." I reached her hand and squeezed it encouragingly and we exchanged a glance of understanding before I looked at a stoic Carl. "Hey, Carl, ya find Hershel yet?"

...

After finding Hershel, Carol and Judith, we went back to Cell Block C to find the couple holding hands and looking at each other romantically. Hershel broke into a smile when he saw his daughter and when I looked at her hand I found out why. She was wearing a ring, a _wedding_ ring. I laughed softly; I guess love never ended, even in an apocalypse.

Beth ran to her sister as she jumped excitedly. "Oh my, Glenn you—awwww!" She kissed her sister's cheek and then gave the Korean a big bear hug, which was strange considering the fact that Beth was rather small. Hershel hopped his way to his family as they all enveloped into an enormous embrace.

Maggie chuckled softly before entwining her hands with her new husband. "God, you guys were more excited than me."

"He went to _Jared,_" I joked as Carl rolled his eyes while everyone laughed.

"Hate to rain on your parade, but we need to head outside. Rick wants to talk," Carol said. Everyone, including me, turned serious and in a matter of minutes, we somberly went to our destination.

We sat on the table and I sat next to Carl, who seemed gloomy. I looked around to find Daryl was nowhere to be found.

"Carl," I harshly whispered, tugging his arm when he ignored me the first time.

"What?" he asked, his voice strained. "You sure are talking a lot today, you know that?"

I simply shrugged and cuddled more into my coat, the cold weather effecting me. "We forgot to find Daryl and Merle. _And_ Michonne."

"They'll come around, I'm sure," he said. But his voice wavered with nervousness and uncertainty.

After many minutes of waiting, I couldn't stand the cold winds blowing my hair, the winds also freezing me to death. I never liked this type of weather but I managed to survive. But I've grown so accustomed to residing in buildings with some warmth that the idea of being in the freezing weather was ridiculous. Couldn't Rick have the meeting inside? And where the hell was he?

_Suck it up_, I thought._ You've been through worse_. Slowly, I huddled to Carl as I sought for warmth. Our arms and legs were touching and I felt a bit better. I tilted my head slightly to the right to find it placed on Carl's shoulder.

"Why are you so close to me?" questioned Carl, who began twiddling his fingers nervously. I felt his warm breath on me.

"Deal with it, I'm freezing," was all I mumbled as the boy sighed. He didn't seem to mind as he just stood there instead of shoving me off.

Rick _finally_ entered and he glanced at Carl and me, in the close position we were. He raised an eyebrow but I stood in the same exact spot; he caused this. I was cold and that's why I was this close to his son. No other reason...nope...was there another reason? I felt a light blush tint my cheeks.

The officer cleared his throat before starting his important speech. "When I met with the Governor, he offered me a deal. He said...he said he would leave us alone if I gave him Michonne." I blinked owlishly at him as I stood from my close position with Carl and felt my mouth gape slightly. Everyone stared at him with a look of disbelief. All the pieces formed into a puzzle as a new realization dawned on me. Did he give away Michonne, someone who was very valuable and significant, to a sick person? Carl and I exchanged an uneasy and tense glance. I frowned at Rick as he sighed.

"I thought about it. To keep us safe. I changed my mind, but now Merle took Michonne to fulfill the deal and Daryl went to stop him and I don't know if it's too late. I was wrong," he admitted, a slight quaver in his voice, "not to tell you. And I'm sorry.

"What I said last year about it not being a democracy anymore, what happened last year at the first night after the farm; it can't be like that. It can't. What we do, what we're willing to do, who _we_ are; it's not my call. It can't be. I couldn't sacrifice one of us for the greater good because we _are_ the greater good. We're the reason we're still here, not me.

"This is life and death. How you live...how you die. It isn't up to me. I'm not your _Governor_. _We_ choose to go. We choose to stay. We stick together. We vote; we could stay and we could fight or we could go." Rick looked at each and one of us with imploring eyes before leaving.

As soon as he left, everyone begins to discuss this vote. Hershel and Carol think it's better to leave, but Maggie and Glenn thought otherwise. Beth found herself in the middle as she has to side with her beloved sister or her caring father. Carl just stared into space; probably thinking about the risks and outcomes.

I felt my eyes soften as I mull the choices over. Rick really did try to stop the war but it's inevitable. To the Governor, we're a pawn in his precious little chess set. We're a tiny piece in his game; a piece he wants to eliminate so he can win. But I'm not going to let him.

"I'm not leaving," I muttered. I stood up from my seat as the others stare at me. "I'm not leaving," I said more loudly; defiantly, with more confidence. "I came here for a reason; to end this stupid war. And I don't want to see a satisfied Governor when he finds that we chickened out. Think of all the things this guy has done to us, to _you. Are you_ going to let him take the prison, something you worked so hard at getting at?"

Maggie stood beside me as she gingerly places a hand on my shoulder. A small smile tugged on her lips. "You're pretty wise for your age."

"I'm just sick of death," I said tiredly.

When we convinced the opposers that staying was the best choice, we headed to Rick to tell our vote. Surprisingly, we found Michonne talking to said man.

"Where's Daryl?" questioned the officer. Michonne shrugged as she looked only at Rick, ignoring the new audience and our questions.

"Where do you think? He went to find Merle, and Merle was taking me to that old mill."

Rick sighed as he shook his head. "You're coming with me. Glenn, you too. We need to get the Dixons before we leave and—"

"Who said we were leaving?" Hershel said, a little grin playing on his lips. Rick looked at all of us and nodded with understanding. We weren't leaving. This prison was our home and nobody was going to take it away.

Rick smiled softly before running to the car to find our rednecks.

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**A/N: Sorry if I overdid the fluff and if it was rushed. This was kind of a filler, and a bit light-hearted compared to the other ones. :3 I've been so busy and I might not be able to update in a week or two due to state testing. Sorry about that, but if I do find time, I'll try to write the new chapter. I can't promise anything so I'm sorry. :c**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hello everyone! This is a very long note. It's certainly been a long time, no? I'm not dead or have not abandoned this story. I can't even imagine doing the latter! Sorry for the long delay; school, once again, has been hectic! I honestly don't know how I survived the year, though surprisingly it was very fast and I still feel like yesterday was September. But preparing for graduation was NOT easy. And my friendship was on a bumpy road, and I'll spare you the details that resemble to a sappy soap-opera (8th grade drama, oh my! :0) But now school is FINALLY over (YAY! :D) and I am now a freshman! Now the updates will be quicker. Hopefully, hehe. Thank you for being extremely patient with me and I appreciate the kind reviews, which have taken me a long time to reply to, so I apologize for that also. Another big thanks for those who have alerted and added this story to their favorites; really, you guys are the best! =)**

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_Chapter 9_

_Long Road_

The thing I hated most about Merle, that 'good ole' redneck, was his snarky, inappropriate, and rude insults. I despised his arrogant attitude and that smug grin that never left his face. His booming voice would irritate me as it echoed down the hollow, gray cells.

Little did I know that those small and annoying things would be the ones I missed the most about him.

A twig snapped and I jumped from my sitting position, gun raised high. Carl was right beside me, mimicking my tensed stance. Another snap. I strained my ears to know if I heard the faintest snarl of a walker yet I was only met with an eerie silence. Instead, Hershel and Beth - who was carrying little Judith - appeared behind the bushes. The old veterinarian raised his hands in surrender while Beth tried closing her gaped mouth and widened eyes.

"Don't shoot," teased Hershel but there was a slightest hint of graveness to his tone.

Sighing with relief but shoulders still rigid, Carl and I lowered our guns. Carl mumbled a sorry but I just shook my head; still nerved. "Jesus, Hershel. Thought you were a walker."

The man hobbled his way over us with the help of his crutches and Beth, his eyes now returning to the warm and fatherly chastising demeanor I was used to. "Just watch where you aim that thing."

Scoffing, I said with a biting sarcasm, "Sure thing." From my peripheral vision, I noticed an eye roll from Beth and a small smile playing on Carl's chapped lips. And I couldn't help but find my mouth curling upwards also.

After more of Hershel's scolding at me, we all laid against the green Hyundai as I took another nervous breath for the umpteenth time. Looking around, I enjoyed the scenic and peaceful atmosphere of the woods. The prison and guard towers seemed far away but surprisingly it wasn't that far. I took in the clear blue sky and the red and orange leaves that blew effortlessly in the air. The wind whistled softly and it seemed as if the many lush trees were whispering to each other; telling things that we didn't know. It was quiet, too quiet. And here we were. Just waiting. Waiting for _him_. It seemed weird that today was the day.

The day we'd be going into war.

I always knew this event was coming but it wasn't until a few days ago did the effect really kick in. And the death of Merle only made us fight with more vigor. I guess you could call him a martyr, though he was more of a hero in my opinion.

Whoa, I never thought I would hear the word Merle and hero together in one sentence. It was...foreign.

But it was Daryl who called his deceased brother a hero. As the way the hunter saw it, at least ten of the Governor's 'soldiers' died by the hands of Merle. Before Merle...turned...his trail of blood led to a room where there was a machine gun. Although it was a wild guess, Rick assumed that the racist redneck tried reducing the numbers of the Governor's forces by sneaking in and killing them. Michonne even said that before Merle let her go, he claimed he had some business to finish. This type of killing did seem like Merle's way of negotiating.

Although we now had a somewhat higher chance of winning this war, we lost someone valuable to the group. Although Merle wasn't exactly a bright ray of sunshine, he did have a vast knowledge of military. Not only that, but it seemed so empty without him. The narrow hallways of Cell Block C no longer filled with boisterous laughs and snorts. And Daryl had been cold and withdrawn lately. Sure, he doesn't shed a tear in front of the whole group, but it isn't hard to guess that he cried a bit at night; hoping to seem oblivious to others. But sometimes I looked at the staircase and saw the hunter's shoulders and figure rack a little, trying to contain the small sobs inside of him.

My ears drummed against my head as I heard a loud _BOOM_ shake throughout the dense forest. I jumped a little, startled by the sudden and loud noise. My wide eyes searched through our area and when I looked straight ahead, I caught a glimpse of our guard tower. On _fire_.

The top of guard tower shattered into an array of bricks and glass, flames spitting out into the air.

"Oh my god," Beth muttered as she nervously bit her lip and looked at Judith, who was now fully awake due to the explosion. A small cry escaped from the baby's lips. And she wouldn't shut up. The Governor won't be the only thing we need to worry about...

"Take her inside the car," Carl ordered. I was surprised by how much authority was in his tone. Beth nodded briskly before trotting to the vehicle and sitting in the front seat, humming to the young girl.

I continued looking at the scene, the tower hard to recognize as a bright blaze of flames replaced it. This had to be the Governor's doing. I heard the roaring engine of a car and immediately held my gun up, nervously scanning through the small perimeter we were in. Even Hershel had his handgun ready. But it's not like we could fight off a whole army. I was just a teenager.

_No_, I thought as I shook my head feverishly. _Don't think like that_.

The sound of tires crunching against rocks and gravel got closer.

"Do you think we should leave?" asked Carl, an edge of fear slightly cracking his voice.

"That'd be a bad idea. Your dad told us to stay put."

"We should still go somewhere safe," insisted the boy. When was he put in charge? I looked at the elderly Hershel for some help, but his scrutinizing gaze remained stoic while watching our disagreement. _Thanks_, I said in my head bitterly.

I shifted my glare to Carl, his piercing blue eyes looking determined. And for a moment, I forgot about this stupid war. Forgot that the Governor and his army were approaching the prison. And the guard tower engulfed in flames.

But only for a moment.

Snapping from my thoughts, I folded my arms stubbornly. I felt like a small child pouting after their parent rejected them of having ice cream or a cookie before dinner. "We're not going."

He mimicked me, earning an exasperated sigh from my mouth. "Do I have to carry you?"

That comment was uncalled for and I couldn't help but prevent the small blush creeping up my neck. Carl now stood a few inches from me, his freckles splashed across his face more evident and suddenly I noticed he had grown a bit taller these past few weeks. I felt small but I still replied with an icy jab. "Over my dead body."

He sighed before shaking his head. "Fine," he half growled before looking at the prison again.

The sound of vehicles stopped. I took out a pair of binoculars from my backpack and looked at the prsion.

I saw some cars (more like enormous tanks) raiding the walker filled courtyard. A few people with weapons effortlessly sliced the heads off threatening walking corpses. Gunshots penetrated the quiet atmosphere while I heard screaming. The screams were actually war cries, but I didn't find that out till later.

I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, though I really had no reason to. Maybe it was because of my fear that someone of my group—who I now consider them as family—might not make it out alive. Maybe I would never be able to see a seemingly fragile yet strong woman with does eyes again. Or I won't see a newly engaged couple, or a certain police officer and crossbow expert redneck. What about the quiet but sneaky dark-skinned woman who was mad talented with a katana? I remembered how Carl and I fought so much with Rick just so we can join them in the fight. But now, I'm not so sure about that. In fact, I'm actually thankful that Rick put me here.

"They'll be fine," said Hershel in a soothing voice, as if he detected our fear and nerves. I relaxed a bit, my shoulders tensing less.

Glancing to my left, I found Carl running a nervous hand through his greasy hair, his other hand tightly gripping his gun. He actually tucked a brown strand behind his ear. Ew...

Thinking this was a great topic to distract us from a somber mood, I called out his name.

"Yeah?" he answered yet his eyes were fixated on the raging war of explosions and smoke in front of us. That was new. I tried blocking out the noise, but it only made it louder as it blared against my ears. _Don't look_, my mind repeated.

"You need a haircut." This caught Carl off-guard as he sent me a confused look, quirking his eyebrow. Even Hershel seemed puzzled, his eyes thick with questioning.

"What?" he asked, blinking owlishly and tilting his head to the right like a lost puppy. He actually seemed...cute...

...

...! Whoa, what? I did not...did I just...?

Stupid teenage driven-hormones.

"Kierstyn?" said Carl, his nose scrunched in confusion. Even Hershel seemed worried. "Are you...talking to yourself?"

It was my turn to blink and ask like an idiot, "What?"

"You mumbled 'stupid teenage driven-hormones'."

My cheeks were burning; on fire. Like that guard tower, except my head wasn't exploding (although I wished it did). I was talking to myself...and they _heard_. Hershel asked if I was okay.

"Yeah," I replied, meekly. Carl sent me a strange look; he must think I'm some lunatic. He doesn't seem so cute now...I averted their gazes, my head dipped in embarrassment. Beth came out of the car as she seemed oblivious to the sudden and weird change of events.

Her golden hair was now tied into a ponytail as she said, "Judy finally fell asleep. Poor little baby got scared."

"She's not the only one," added in Hershel before sighing heavily.

The young aspiring singer took in the awkward silence. Her forehead creased in concern as she looked at me. "Did I miss anything? Besides the explosion."

"Nothing," Carl and I blurted out at the same exact time. I refrained rolling my eyes as I exchanged a quick glance with him.

Clearing my throat, I fully looked at Beth, who was perplexed at our behavior. "What I mean is, nothing major happened." A nervous - almost hysteric - laugh escaped from my lips.

Beth eyed me strangely but didn't comment. Instead, she went back into the car to check on Carl's sister while I kept a distance from everyone. I _somehow_ thought Carl was cute and started talking to myself. I was in deep trouble...

I think an hour, although it felt like a century, passed until I saw the same tanks leaving the prison. Leaving.

"They're going away," Carl announced my thoughts aloud.

"Does this mean..?" Did we win?

Hershel stood between us as he nodded, a small chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Guess they didn't like the prison."

I joined in the laughter and a tiny smile appeared on my face, relief washing over me. Suddenly, something touched me and I immediately tensed. But when I turned around, I was greeted with a hugging Beth. "You okay Kierstyn? I don't bite."

Shrugging, I hugged back as we celebrated this small moment of happiness. Something that was hard to find in a wasteland like this.

After breaking away from my embrace, I was planning to go back to the prison with everyone. We were safe, weren't we? So why not go back?

Yet someone thought differently.

A tall teenage boy wearing a gray hat was at least five feet away from me, his shotgun aiming right at me. It then shifted to Carl and Hershel, who already had their weapons out. Blanching and startled, I froze in my spot. Slowly, I raised my gun and aimed at his head. My fingers trembled uncontrollably as I found the trigger. Did anyone hear my heart hammering against my chest? Because I sure did.

"Don't shoot," blurted the teen, breathing heavily and sucking in short, labored breaths. I glanced to my left to see Hershel shaking his head at me. He didn't want me to shoot. I felt my eyes widen; did he not see the threat this guy was posing?!

"Put down your weapon, son," said Hershel.

I heeded a slight hesitation from the boy's dark blue eyes and it only made more tense. Suspicion grew as he kept looking back and forth. Carl noticed it also as he gently nudged me, his orbs worried.

"We don't have all day," I hissed through clenched teeth, my gun wavering a bit. He was making me anxious. I don't even think I can shoot him, but maybe the bluff would scare him off.

"Yeah, sure." He slowly extended the shotgun to Carl although I saw the stranger's long index finger wrapped around the trigger. Holy...

"Here, take it," he insisted. Why doesn't he just drop the gun? Is he allies with the Governor? Or is he some innocent survivor? His eyes flitted to me again, and I furrowed my brows angrily mixed with confusion.

Carl's fingers shook tremulously and a small bead of sweat ran down the side of his face. I glanced at Hershel to see him biting his lip nervously. The stranger was coming closer to Carl and me. I was frightened. Frightened at why he wouldn't drop his weapon. Frightened at how he constantly looked back and forth. Frightened that he was going to shoot us.

In the blink of an eye, I suddnely pulled the trigger and the next thing I saw was the stranger on the cold ground. The gunshot echoed loudly throughout the forest and the few birds that were nesting on the trees above us hastily flew away; frightened by the noise. I don't blame them, as I jumped and yelped from the sound resonating in my ears. Hesitantly, I caught a glimpse at the stranger who collapsed.

A bullet wound was right between his brows and blue eyes, which were wide open; expressing fear. His mouth gaped like a goldfish, yet unlike fish blood was coming out of it. In fact, there was blood everywhere. The crimson liquid oozed where he was shot. There was a pool of it right underneath him. And right next to him, was that shotgun he wouldn't give up.

It took all of my guts to not puke right in front of everyone.

Mostly, I wouldn't really feel like this when death approached. Death was everywhere so I've become numb to it. All I did was kill. Kill walkers.

But this was a human. And _I_ was the one responsible.

_I killed a person_, was all I thought._ I killed someone. A living being. _

But I did it in the safety of the group. Right?

_That still doesn't hide the fact that you took the life of a person_, my mind interjected.

My head was pounding against my skull, and I felt like it was going to split open. I couldn't take it anymore and I covered my ears, with my hands that were caked with dirt. I heard a shrill groan nearby. Thinking it was Carl, Beth, Judith, or Hershel, I turned around. And it wasn't till I saw their faces did I notice that I was the one making the horrible noise.

I bolted past them, and ran. Ran. I ran, ignoring the searing burn in my legs. I ran until I lost my balance and collapsed onto my knees, a sob racking through my body. Hot tears streaked down my face and I wiped them hurriedly. _Don't cry_, I repeated to myself. _Don't cry._

Somehow, I managed to calm down for a few seconds. Exhale...inhale...exhale...inhale...

Then the actions and grim reality of what I did hit me like a ton of bricks.

My stomach began churning unpleasantly while I covered my quivering mouth with my hand. Bile rose to my throat and I gasped for air. I began coughing out the can of peaches I had earlier in the morning. Disgusted and in pain, I slowly backed away until my head bumped into the hard trunk of a tree. I groaned before resting against it, hugging my knees.

Slowly, I rocked back and forth. I was shivering, realizing that the jacket I had earlier on was gone. I then remembered that I left in the car. Stupid.

But that still doesn't avoid the fact that I killed someone.

A boy who had to be no more than sixteen. _Had_. Why would I just shoot? Where was my common sense? Did I base everything on my reckless behavior and fear instead of thinking things through?

That had to be it. I was a cold person.

"Despicable," I whispered softly. "Cruel. Ruthless. Heartless." The list can go on.

Something felt like a ton in the right pocket of my tattered jeans. My fingers slowly entered into the pocket only to be met with a cold object. Sucking in a deep breath, I took it out and saw that it was the gun. This horrible weapon. My thumb felt the grooves as it found the trigger. Soon, my mind flooded to the images of the bloody boy...who is now dead. Because of me.

He had a name, one that I didn't know. He was young. People probably cared about him. Or maybe he was a loner. Hell, he might have even known the Governor. But no matter what he was a human. Was. Now he's no longer breathing...because of me...

Shrieking in anger, I threw the thing as it flew across the air. I don't need it; never did.

Leaves rustled by and I froze, my shoulders rigid. Was it some other stranger? Another person I'd have to kill?

He appeared out of the bushes, his blue eyes worried yet possessed some wariness. As if one step closer would send me on a crazy rampage.

Maybe it would.

And I didn't want to hurt him. He had to leave, even if I had to be harsh with him.

"Carl," I seethed, pointing my index finger to some random direction. He raised an eyebrow at my hostility. "Get out."

"Why would I do that?" he asked, his tone matching mine's.

Sighing, I buried my head between my knees. "I've hurt enough people today."

When I looked up, he was closer to me and Carl's eyes locked with my hollow ones. He gently touched my shoulder, but I jerked away. "Don't touch me," I said stiffly.

He shrugged it off but seemed a bit hurt. Rejected. "We have to go. Back to the group," he said softly, trying for a more soothing voice.

"No. Just leave me here. I'll injure somebody. And they'll hate me."

"They won't."

"How do you know?" I inquired before I chuckled dryly. "Geez, Carl, I _killed_ someone. Who's going to be my next victim?"

Carl had enough of my stubbornness and scoffed before saying impatiently, "Are you that stupid? I'm not leaving you, come on. And stop looking at me like that. I've had enough of your bratty behavior."

To be honest, he sounded a lot like his father. After a few tense minutes, I grunted out a "fine," and got up by myself. I walked with him though kept my distance, my body (especially my legs) feeling like lead at every step I took.

"Are you just gonna leave the gun?" he asked incredulously. A nod was my answer as he sighed and went back to retrieve it.

...

The car ride back to the prison was pretty silent until Hershel spoke up. "Why did you do it?"

I knew he was directing the question to me but I only looked down at my shoes, avoiding everyone. I imagined that I was in a black abyss and that I was all alone. With no strangers, or a blue-eyed teenager. No war, no walkers, and especially no guns. Just me and a pitch black world.

"Kierstyn," I heard Hershel say, a bit more harshly this time. "Answer me."

Finally breaking away from my fantasy, I peered at the rear view mirror as my orbs met with the old man's. My eye twitched a bit as his intimidating gaze seem to bore into my soul. Not able to handle it anymore, I looked away as I stared out the dirty window. I had no answer for that.

Apparently, someone else did.

"She did what she had to," piped up Carl. I whipped my head to the left, wanting to see his expression. But his face was obscured by that cowboy hat he held so closely to.

"No, it wasn't," Hershel disagreed, his knuckles paper white due to the tight gripping of the steering wheel. "We could've negotiated."

Carl, to my surprise, snorted. "I doubt it. I would've shot him myself if Kierstyn didn't. No hesitation."

Maybe it was the sudden dark turn of the path that sent chills down my spine. I'm not sure that statement would sit well with his father; I myself didn't like how he sounded. I didn't have to see his face to see the strong affirmation he had. Even that shut Hershel up; you just can't find a way to respond to that. Carl wasn't kidding about shooting the teen.

And that thought scared me the most.

...

"You're quiet. I don't like it," Daryl said as he strapped his crossbow to his back. I wanted to tell him that he was reclusive also but I bit my tongue before the words could spill.

A frown tugged at my lips as I shrugged lamely. The dead stranger still lingered in my mind. "Sorry I can't entertain you." He only grunted at this while he loaded his revolver. I couldn't help but wince at the _click_.

Everyone was loading their guns, and it was driving me crazy. I wanted to escape out of here yet I stood my ground; my nails digging into the soft flesh of my palm. "So, um, Daryl. Where are you going?"

Rick, who was by us, was quick to answer that. "We're going to find the Governor and his 'posse'. This isn't over and they couldn't have gone far."

Carl suddenly appeared next to his dad and asked a bit too eagerly, "Can Kierstyn and I go?" I grimaced at the question; I didn't want to go. It was only a place full of guns and killing.

The older Grimes immediately shook his head. "Not a chance. It's too dangerous."

"I'm sure I can handle it. So can Kier. She even shot a solider."

Something of a strangled cry came out of my mouth. I furiously narrowed my eyes at Carl. I hope it looked like I was sending icy daggers at him instead of seeming like a frightened girl. All eyes were watching me but a certain stern blue ones caught my attention. I gulped at them; Rick could be the kindest person you've ever known. But he could also be the scariest.

"What?" he said, his loud voice booming through the cells. He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration but spoke more softly this time, "Kierstyn, did you...?"

"He was a boy, not a soldier," spoke up Hershel. This man was family to me, but today he seemed to be my enemy. He probably hated me...

"The boy still posed a threat to us," I stressed, on the edge of hysteria. My voice even cracked; I was losing it. "He wouldn't drop his gun when he was told. You think I had a choice?"

"No one said you wanted to do it," said Carol in her soft spoken voice. "But are you sure he didn't surrender?"

"He did, but he was still going to hurt us," defended Carl. He was looking at me, but I was only fixated on Rick, who seemed conflicted.

"We'll talk about this later," he concluded with a heavy sigh. "We need to go finish this, once and for all."

"Glenn and I'll stay here just in case the Governor has changed his route," stated Maggie as her fingers intertwined with the Asian. Rick nodded and began packing more stuff. When him, Michonne, and Daryl were about to leave, the officer gestured a finger towards me. Reluctantly, I trudged my way to where he was heading.

We stood by the old bloody basketball courts as I kicked some pebbles. Daryl and Michonne kept their distance but I wondered if they were hearing our conversation. Looking around, I saw three or four walkers roaming around the courtyard. Strange. Guess the Governor actually did one good thing.

But we weren't here to converse about that man. Rick wanted to talk about something else. I suddenly felt like I was back in school; sitting outside the principal's office and waiting for my punishment.

"Are you okay?" To be honest, the question threw me off. The others in the group would ask _Why_ I would shoot without thinking. _Why_ did I do it. No one questioned if I was all right. And I didn't know the answer to that.

Everything was so confusing.

"I'm fine. I guess," I drawled. He placed both hands on his hips before sighing exasperatedly.

"Kierstyn, stop lying to me. It isn't easy, to shoot I mean. I know."

"Then why'd you ask?" I said hotly.

"Would you rather want the next question?"

My eyes looked into his stoic blue ones. At least I knew the answer to this one. "I did it for our safety. I don't know if the boy was a soldier of Woodbury, but"—I faltered before clearing my throat and speaking again, as low as a whisper—"I just couldn't take the risk."

"Why didn't Carl shoot him?" I hesitated at this and he immediately noticed it. I didn't want to tell him about Carl's little speech; I didn't even know how to say it. I answered with, "Because he didn't want to."

Either I was a pretty bad liar (which I was) or he was an amazing police officer because he saw through my lie. He said in that chastising tone that resembled so much of my deceased father, "Kierstyn..."

"Fine, fine. What happened was..." I let the words fall effortlessly and he listened. I don't know how long I rambled, but over time his bright orbs darkened. After I was finished, he was in a more somber mood than before. And I worried over the awkward silence that ensued.

Somebody whistled and I turned around to see it was an impatient Daryl. "Yo! Come on, we don' have all day!"

Rick bid a goodbye as he left with the other two; leaving me in silence. Based on his sudden mood change, I regretted telling the father about his son's views. And I couldn't remove a thought from my head; it stuck like glue.

What would've happened if _Carl_ was the one who shot the boy?

...

The rest of the day was filled with trepidation. They weren't here yet, and the sun was about to set. It's funny how a sunset can look so beautiful while the world I live around is a wasteland.

There were more questions about the killing. But I didn't answer them. I just wasted my life in my cell, bored to death as I stared at the ceiling. Carl tried coming in once but I ordered him out.

My eyes were drooping, yearning for some sleep. And soon I succumbed to it, but it was far from pretty...

* * *

_"Duane," I gasped between giggles. "Stop!" __My friend only laughed harder as he tickled me around the waist. I lost my balance and fell onto the hard ground._

_"Ow!" I exclaimed as my back began throbbing. Duane stopped laughing and looked at me with concern. When I half-glared at him, he chuckled instead of lifting me up._

_"What a gentelman," I grumbled while I continued laying on the ground; looking at the cloudless, blue sky. From my peripheral vision, I noticed Duane shaking his head, his arms raised as if he was innocent__._

_"Just trying to have some fun." _

_"I'm not sure you're supposed to have fun while doing watch." The young boy offered a hand while I grabbed it. He hauled me up with that usual crooked smile of his plastered on his face. _

_"Wells, you need to have some more fun in your life." We walked at the same pace as I grabbed my rifle from the ledge of the roof and propped it onto my shoulder. Morgan was on a supply run and left us two rascals in charge of the vacant King County. _

_I pursed my lips and rolled my eyes at what Duane said. "Sorry I'm not your energetic and bubbly teenager."_

_He let out a chuckle while he looked through the scope of his rifle. "I guess that's why my dad likes you so much."_

_I scoffed. "For what, being boring?"_

_"Being mature, but that too." A small smile crept across my face as I playfully punched him in the arm. _

_"Awww, thanks DJ D." That was Duane's nickname. Once I found out that he wanted to be a rapper, and that he was pretty good at it, I couldn't help but tease him about it._

_After one or two hours, a walker was swiftly moving through our complicated traps. It was pretty quick, too. Awfully quick..._

_The walker then looked at the building we were on top of and _us_. I let out a small gasp. "Duane, it's a...!"_

_"I see him!" he exclaimed. He aimed his rifle at the person's head while taking a deep breath._

_"Wait, what are you doing?" I hissed, slapping his hand to get his attention._

_"Dad said that anyone who causes a threat had to be given a warning or shot."_

_"Then give him a warning, not a shot to the head!" I said through gritted teeth. What was wrong with him?!_

_"HHHHELLLLOOOOOO!" yelled the survivor and my face fell in terror._ No, don't scream_. That's the most basic rule of surviving._

_I looked over the roof to see one or three walkers attracted by the noise. They approached him but got caught in the traps. The survivor stabbed them in the head as he continued yelling for help. More walkers came._

_"Shit," muttered Duane. He shifted his midnight eyes to me, full of pleading. "Kierstyn, I'm gonna have to do it."_

_"No, he's a human. We can _help_ him."_

_"And attract a herd of walkers? Not a chance." He looked through the scope and aimed. Before I could tackle him down, he already took his shot. _

_We both fell down the ground with an 'oof'. He groaned while I looked at him with fear. "What did you do?" I whispered with widened eyes, shock evident all over my face. This wasn't Duane..._

___The survivor's screaming stopped._

_Duane's brimmed-teared eyes expanded but then narrowed and flashed with anger. "I did it for our safety. You believe me don't you?"_

_Feeling numb all over, I simply got up and refused to look at him. Finding a pair of binolculars near Duane's rifle, I grabbed it and trudged my way to the ledge of the roof. And I looked through the lenses._

_But instead of seeing the survivor, I saw a different person. A teen who wore a gray hat and had dark blue eyes. One who had a shotgun next to him. _

_The stranger _I_ killed._

* * *

"Duane!" I exclaimed as I got up into an upright position. I was shivering while cold beads of sweat formed on my forehead. I frantically looked around, unaware of my surroundings. My hands desperately clutched onto the dirty white blanket of the prisoner bed. Right, I'm in the prison. Not in King County...

But that still doesn't erase the cold hard truth that I killed someone. And so did Duane.

After that little incident, Duane and I swore we wouldn't bring up one word about it to Morgan. We even hauled the body to the burning place and lit the body; watched it turn to ashes. I felt horrible, like a cold-blooded murderer. Yet Duane had a different reaction. He became darker, more harsh. Sometimes he would try to be his cheery old self, but I noticed those smiles he wore never reached his eyes. The corny jokes he would crack up covered the person he had drastically changed to. He could've easily passed as a walker. I knew how hard the boy tried to fight his demons and morality, how difficult it was to set that secret aside. He knew it would always haunt him; that he'd never forget it. He was scared, to say the least.

Duane met his fate a week later.

And now I couldn't help but wonder: would that be me? Would I have to go what he went through? Would I die?

I chuckled dryly at the last question. Stupid me; of course I would die. The true question was _when_ would I die. Meet the same, inevitable fate as Duane's.

And then there was Carl. A heavy sigh came out of me as I thought about the kid. I swear, he was going to be the death of me.

Not only did I think he was _cute_ (What was wrong with me? How the hell could I think that? Blame my crazy hormones.), but it also seemed he had a dark path ahead of him. Would he really have shot the boy? Not that it matters...I'm the one who did, and I was probably the one who would be walking down the said dark, turbulent path.

"Deep thinking?" asked a soothing voice. I immediately snapped my head the doorway and saw Carol standing there, her arms folded. She offered a small, weak smile.

I let out a frustrated breath. "More like wallowing in my sorrow."

Her head titled to the side as her eyes shone with curiosity. I thought she was going to sit next to me on the bed, but she still stood there. Smart woman. "Would you like to share?"

I shrugged. "The usual."

"Would this have to pertain about a certain boy?" A knowing tone rang in that question and I noticed a tiny yet coy smile tugging on her pink lips.

Like the immature child I was, I stuck out my tongue and grimaced in disgust. But I was blushing a bit. "No way." Hopefully she would fall for my lie although no one ever did. I sighed before shaking my head. "I'm thinking about the _incident_ that happened earlier on."

The smile on Carol's face immediately fell as her lips set into a straight, thin line; all joking aside. Who would joke around a situation so grim? "I see. Are you having regrets?"

I never would've thought I could confide in Carol. She didn't exactly like me; we were more of acquaintances. Not many people could handle my impulsive and annoying behavior. Yet today, I clutched onto Carol like a baby would do with her mother. She seemed so trustworthy and her eyes were so calm but strong. I could trust this woman. "More like what ifs rather than regrets. What if the boy dropped his weapon? What if he was from Woodbury? What if I didn't shoot him?" I fiddled with my fingers and kept my gaze steady on them. "I know what you're going to say: I shouldn't worry so much about this thing. It wasn't my fault and I did what I had to do. That I should forget about it and move on. But that's...crap."

Carol laughed. "I actually agree with you on that." This caught my attention and I shifted my eyes to her soft, strong ones. Based on my befuddled expression, she elaborated more. "To be honest, it's good to worry like that. It shows that the world isn't so bleak and that we still have humanity. Morals. I feel like our world is missing that. You can't forget the actions you've done. Good or bad. They define who you are."

She spoke from wisdom; experience. That was the best type of advice. Because she was right. And for once in this dreary day, I cracked a genuine smile. "Thanks, Carol. It helped..a lot."

Hesitantly, she nodded. Then she came towards be and enveloped me in a big embrace, her hand smoothing my long hair. I tightened the grip; today, she was my motherly guide. "You're welcome. But don't worry too much."

I laughed. "I'll be sure not to."

"Hey!" a familiar voice yelled. We both turned around to see Carl standing there, looking like he was put in an uncomfortable position. "Um, yeah...You have to be outside. There's a big...surprise." He didn't sound so happy about it.

Carol and I nodded. We both followed him through the dark corridors. Carl took this as a chance and his walking pace met mine, right beside me. Carol knew what was going to happen and walked a bit faster, avoiding the both us. The boy next to me cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Hey, Kierstyn," he whispered, "about the um...shooting—"

"Save it, Carl," I cut off tersely, feeling my shoulders tense up immediately.

"But I just wanted to—"

I froze in my spot, turned to my left, and grabbed his arm; forcing him to look me in the eye. Those blue ones that I used to admire were now the ones I dreaded the most. "Carl, not one word."

He looked hurt and avoided my piercing gaze. I wanted to do something to comfort him, but I didn't have the courage. And neither did he. "Fine," he mumbled before sauntering off. Leaving me alone; a sense of despair and isolation overcoming me. Dominating every singe body part I had.

From that moment on, I knew our friendship was slowly crumbling.

Yanking strands of my hair out, I lamely walked my way out of the prison.

And saw a navy blue bus coming into the courtyard.

* * *

**A/N: And that concludes chapter 9! Season 3 is over, and onto season 4. Don't worry, I won't wait until October to write the next chapter. I've kept you waiting long enough (sorry for that, by the way). I plan on writing my own rendition of the upcoming season, adding some elements from the comics and my 'little' twists.**

**Also, did you like that I twisted things up a little? Made Kierstyn shoot Jody, I mean. I'm so nervous about that. And the dialogue. God, this chapter feels likes hot mess****. :/ **

**This chapter was written while listening to the amazing song _Radioactive_ by _Imagine Dragons_. You should look up the song if you haven't heard of it. I think it ties in so perfectly with the chapter: from "_the apocalypse_" to "_the checking out on the prison bus_". Lol. :3**

**Also, I've seen many authors do this; they ask their readers question about the fandom or about their favorite stuff. So I'm calling it Question Of the Day (QOTD for short). So, yeah...QOTD: what's your favorite season of The Walking Dead? 1, 2, or 3? Be sure to answer that in your reviews! ^_^**

**Review please! They mean a lot! And they kill walkers, something the prison group would appreciate! :)**


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